The Bungalow Boys in the Great Northwest

by John Henry Goldfrap

  CHAPTER X.

  IN DIRE STRAITS.

  Moving with the utmost caution so as not to arouse the sleeping Indian,Tom attempted to reach the knife with his bound hands. But he found thisimpossible to do. After a dozen efforts he realized that it washopeless. It began to look as if their unknown benefactor might havestriven in vain to aid them. But Tom's mind was not one to be overcomeby an obstacle, however insurmountable it might seem at first blush.

  Reaching forward--like a boy playing bob-cherry--he seized the knifewith his teeth. Tom's ivories were white and strong and even, andholding the keen blade in his mouth he had no difficulty in sawingJack's hands free, for the younger boy had instantly perceived, withoutTom's telling him, what the other was about to do.

  Of course, the thing took longer to perform than it does to tell ithere. A dozen times or more the boys interrupted themselves to lookcautiously around. For all they knew there might be other guards thanthe sleeping Indian and his companion. But they could see none, and, asthe moments went on without interruption, they grew bolder and workedmore rapidly. Presently Jack was free, and, taking the knife from Tom,he at once accomplished his brother's disentanglement.

  "What are we going to do now?" whispered Jack, as they stood cramped andaching, but thrilling at the same time with the sense of gloriousliberty. But they were by no means at the end of their troubles yet.They had still to get out of the cave and make their way to some placeof security beyond Bully Banjo's immediate grip.

  Tom did not answer Jack's question immediately. Instead, he paused andan expression of deep thought came over his countenance. One by one, heran over the various features of the locality as he recalled them. Thehigh-sided canyon, steep as the walls of a house, and with no apparentway of reaching the summit from below. No, there was no chance ofgetting away there. The river? Ah, that was better. Tom thought that byworking along the edge of the stream they could reach the sea coast, orat least some point at which they could clamber back onto thetrail,--possibly at the same place as that by which they had made theirunfortunate excursion after water.

  Rapidly and in a low whisper he conveyed his plan to Jack. The youngerboy nodded, and then, as there was nothing to be gained by waiting, theystarted to put the daring plan into execution. But as they moved forwardout of the cave Death, who, like most Indians slumbered as lightly as acat, stirred and opened his eyes. In a flash, he saw what had happenedand comprehended it.

  Luckily, before he cried out to give the alarm, he reached for hisrifle, which lay by his side. That instant of time was all that Tomneeded. In one bound he was on the Chinook. The fellow reeled backwardunder his powerful blow, toppling head first into the still glowingfire. Before he could utter a cry, though, Tom was on him. The BungalowBoy's hand was clapped over the Indian's mouth. But Tom speedily foundthat, though his swift attack had temporarily made him master of thesituation, he was no more than a fair match for the Indian. The fellowwas thin, but as tough as steel wire. He wriggled and squirmed like anacrobat under Tom's powerful grip. Fortunately, all this rolling andthrashing about brought them out of the embers, or one or the othermight have been badly burned.

  It was Jack who turned the balance in favor of Tom. He saw as soon asTom sprang on the Indian that the latter was likely to prove a prettyhandy man in a rough and tumble encounter, and therefore he had lost notime in dashing back into the cave and securing some of the ropes withwhich they themselves had been secured but a few moments before.

  He returned just as the Indian, by dint of arching his back, hadsucceeded in momentarily casting off Tom's grip. The Bungalow Boy, takenby surprise by the sudden spring-like upbound of the Indian, was castclear off him, in fact. But before the Indian could take any advantageof this turn of affairs, Jack was on him. The younger Dacre boy seizedthe leathery-faced old rascal by the head and clapped one hand over hismouth. He realized that the most important thing to do was to keep theman from calling out and alarming the camp. Tom speedily recoveredhimself, and, coming to Jack's aid, it was not long before they had theChinook as securely tied and bound as they themselves had been. Rippingoff a portion of his blue-flannel shirt, Tom stuffed it in the fellow'smouth to serve as a gag. They then bundled him into the cave and startedfor the river. There was no difficulty in locating it. The roar of itsdashing waters as they rushed on to the sea betrayed its whereabouts.

  But, unfortunately, during the battle something had occurred which theyhad not foreseen. The red-faced man had slumbered serenely through itall. But, unseen by either of the boys during the struggle in theembers, a glowing brand had been cast upon his clothes. This had burnedsteadily on, fanned by the wind which swept through the canyon. Just asthe boys vanished in the black shadows toward the river, the smolderingflame reached his flesh. With a yell, he wakened, on the alert in aninstant, his slumber having cleared his fuddled brain of the effects ofhis carouse.

  It took him scarcely a longer time than it had the Indian to perceivewhat had occurred. His first yell of pain had aroused the camp. Beforethe befuddled, red-faced individual had regained his wits entirely, theplace was humming like an angry beehive.

  With long-legged leaps, Simon Lake came bounding into the circle oflight formed by the scattered embers.

  "What in tarnation's the matter, Tarbox, yer red-faced codfish?" heshouted.

  "Matter enough," roared back Zeb Hunt, who had been doing some rapidinvestigating. "Them boys has got away."

  "Got away!" echoed Simon Lake furiously, yet incredulously.

  "Yep. Death's trussed up like a Christmas turkey back thar in ther cave,an' ther young varmints hes vamoosed."

  "Scatter, boys! After 'em!" bellowed Lake. "By Juniper, I'll give ahundred dollars to the one that gets 'em."

  "Alive or dead?" asked one ruffian, with an ugly scar running from browto chin down his weather-beaten face.

  "Yes," snarled Lake, "alive or dead. They know too much fer me ter lose'em now. And then if they git loose all our plans go ter tarnationsmash. Go on, Zeb, arter 'em. Git on the scent, my bullies. As for you,"grated out Lake, casting a terrible look at poor Tarbox, who hadsucceeded in extinguishing his clothes, "I'll attend to you later."

  The fellow sank to his knees and began quivering out pleas for mercy.But Lake turned away with a savage laugh.

  "You'll blubber worse then that afor I git through with yer, byChowder!"

  As he spoke, from the direction of the river there came a sudden loudcrack as if a branch had snapped under some one's foot. Lake heard it,and was quick to guess its significance.

  "Ther young varmits is in ther brush yonder, byes. Git 'em out. Arter'em. Drag 'em out of thar!"

  It sounded like the master of a pack of hounds urging on his charges totheir work. In obedience to Bully Banjo's shout and cries the searchersplunged into the brush, shouting and yelling to one another savagely.

  Simon Lake was right when he imagined that the sudden sharp noise in thebrush had been caused by the boys. It was Jack's unlucky encounter witha dead limb half buried in dried leaves and debris that had caused it.The accident could not possibly have occurred at a more unfortunatemoment for the boys.

  Gritty lads as they were, both of them changed color and their pulsesbegan to beat a tattoo as they heard the human bloodhounds break intofull cry at the sound.

  "Tom, I'm--I'm awfully sorry," gasped Jack contritely.

  "Rubbish, old fellow. How could you help it?" rejoined Tom. "Come on,we'll beat them yet."

  "How?"

  The question seemed a natural one. They were still some little distancefrom the river, in the midst of thick underbrush through which it washard to proceed quickly without making a noise. The outlaws, on theother hand, probably knew of trails to the river bank. They might threadthese quickly and arrive there ahead of the boys.

  But they kept doggedly on. Tom had given no answer to Jack's question.Time was too precious for that now, and breath, too. The great objectwas to reach the river ba
nk first. Tom felt that once among its ruggedrocks and intricate windings, interspersed as they were by dense brakesof brush, that they would stand at least a chance of getting awayunobserved.

  And now they reached the river bank. Through the darkness they could seethe water rushing whitely along. In the midst of the white smother infront of them could be seen a darker blot. Tom guessed it to be a rockin mid-stream.

  As he saw it a bold idea flashed into his mind. If they could jump andgain it, perhaps there was another rock beyond to which they could jumpin turn, and so cross the stream and reach the other side in safety. Ina few low breathless words he confided his plan to Jack. The youngerboy, however, was not impressed by it.

  "It's all right for you, with your record for the broad jump, Tom," heargued. "You could make it. But I don't believe I could, and----"

  There was a sudden crackling and trampling in the brush behind them.

  "Here they come," exclaimed Tom. "It's now or never. Are we going to tryfor it or wait here to be roped like two fool calves?"

  Jack drew a deep breath.

  "I'll try it," he said, gritting his teeth.

  "Good boy!"

  Tom's hand fell with a tight squeeze on the younger lad's shoulder.

  "You'll make it, never fear, Jack," he went on encouragingly, as hethrew off his coat and stepped back from the bank as far as possible.

  "I'll go first, and if I can make it, I'll be on the rock to help youwhen you come."

  "But if you miss?" quavered Jack.

  "But I won't miss," said Tom pluckily, although he felt by no meanscertain in his own mind. "I feel as confident as I did that day atAudubon when I got the broad jump away from Old Hickey. He----"

  "This way, boys. I hearn the varmints not a second ago!"

  The voice, raucous and savage, came behind them. Its owner was still inthe brush. They could hear his heavy-footed tramplings. But it warnedthem that the moment for action had arrived.

  With a quick run, Tom reached the bank of the stream. Then up he shotand outward over the boiling, screaming waters, and--landed on the rockwith six inches or more to spare. The great stone was wet and slippery,but he maintained his footing, and turned with a wave toward the shore.

  As he did so a terrible fear shot into his heart. What if Jack's nervefailed him at the last instant? Situated as Tom was, he would bepowerless to help him, for to leap back to shore again would be animpossibility. Shout encouragement he dared not. All he could do was towait, with the river roaring in the blackness all about him.

  Suddenly ashore the night was split by a red flash and a sharp reportsounded above the turmoil. Jack had been sighted and they were firing athim.

  "Oh, Jack, why won't you jump?"

  The words were wrung from the Bungalow Boy as he stood upright on thewet rock, the spray of the racing river showering him till he was asdrenched as his foothold. With burning eyes, he peered shoreward.

  Suddenly over the water toward him came a figure. It was Jack. As heleaped three shots resounded behind him. Tom could feel the bulletswhistle by. But they hardly arrived quicker than Jack.

  It was well for him that Tom was there, for Jack's jump was short. Hefell, clutching at the wet rock. The water seized his legs and tried towhip him off in its mad current. But Tom's strong hands had grasped hisbrother's wrists before his hold gave way, and in less time than ittakes to tell it Jack was beside him on the rock.

  "Thank goodness, you're safe," breathed the elder lad, as Jack, panting,wet, and trembling from his exertion, stood beside him.

  There was no time to exchange more words. As Tom spoke, several bulletscame whizzing about them. Two or three hit the rock with a dull"pinging" sound.

  Evidently their refuge had been spied from the shore and a better targetthan they presented it would be hard to imagine. So far the darkness hadapparently intervened in their favor. Tom knew it would not protect themfor long. Presently the men on shore would get the range.

  He dragged Jack down till both lay flat on the rock, and together theyslowly made their way across it.

  Was there another such rock within jumping distance?

  If there were not, the Bungalow Boys were in the most dangerous positionthey had ever occupied in their adventurous lives.