Two Boys in Wyoming

by Ellis, Edward Sylvester

  But "old Ephraim" seemed to have determined to dispose of the fugitives in the reverse order of their ages; that is to say, having changed his attentions to Jack Dudley, he did not mean to be diverted therefrom, even though the younger lad was showing disagreeable interest in him.

  This peculiar turn of affairs gave Fred his favorable chance; and, standing motionless, he continued his miniature bombardment as fast as he could shove the cartridges into the chamber of his weapon, aim, and fire. Surely the bullets, all of which found a lodgment somewhere in the anatomy of the monster, must have produced an effect, but they could not divert him from his main purpose. He bore down upon the apparently doomed Jack Dudley as if he would not be denied.

  This fact caused Fred to be thrown partly to the rear, so that the remarkable combat took the form of the grizzly pursuing one of the boys, while the other boy was pursuing the grizzly. The position of Fred, however, thus became unfavorable, for he was unable to aim at any vulnerable portion of the creature. He continued firing into his body, but the bullets produced no perceptible effect in this fight for life.

  Meanwhile the situation of Jack Dudley became perilous to the last degree. To stop and fire insured his certain seizure by the grizzly, who would require but a moment to tear the life from him. Jack saw him so near, indeed, that he did that which no person would do except in the last extremity. He flung away his rifle, that it might not impede his flight, and concentrated all his energies into the one effort of running.

  He had no time to look where he was going. He could only strive with the desperation of despair to preserve the distance between him and his pursuer, in the faint hope that something would intervene to save him. Fred was not only firing his gun as fast as he could, but he shouted to the bear, in the hope of diverting his attention from Jack, who could not keep up the unequal flight much longer.

  The terrified fugitive leaped over boulders, dashed around interposing rocks, and bounded across open spaces, hardly daring to look over his shoulder, for he knew from the sounds of pursuit that the animal was at his heels. It seemed every moment as if the prodigious paw of the grizzly would smite him to the earth, when no human power could save him.

  Suddenly the fugitive, while dashing forward in this blind, headlong fashion, found himself confronted by the canyon with which he and Fred had already had a memorable experience. It yawned at right angles to the course he was following, its width so great that it was impossible for him to leap it at that point. But he knew there must be some such place, and he continued his flight along the side of the chasm, hunting for a spot that would permit him to reach the other bank.

  He did not stop to think how this could benefit him, for it was to be supposed that if the grizzly could outrun he could also outleap him, and the moment the fugitive landed on the further bank the brute would do the same, without losing an inch of the advantage already gained. In fact, Jack Dudley had no time to think of anything except to run with all the vigor which nature had given him.

  All at once he saw a spot where the feat looked possible. There was no time for him to turn off to gain the momentum, but, measuring the interval with his eye, he gathered his muscles and leaped outward. The jump was diagonal, and made under most difficult circumstances.

  Who shall describe the awful thrill that shot through Jack Dudley when, at the moment of leaving the rocky edge of the rocky wall, he was sure he was about to fail in his last effort? The other margin of the canyon wall appeared to recede, and he uttered a despairing cry, certain that the next instant he would go spinning down the frightful abyss.

  It is at such critical times that the question of life and death is often decided by incidents so trifling that they are unnoticed. Had Jack Dudley retained his Winchester in his grasp he would have been lost. It would not have been alone the weight of the weapon, but its interference with the free use of his hands. As it was, the latter were untrammeled, and, though his feet missed a firm hold, he instinctively clutched the craggy projections, and, with a supreme effort, drew himself over the margin and beyond all danger of falling back into the canyon.

  And where, all this time, was old Ephraim?

  The remark just made concerning the effect of trifles was shown as strikingly in his case as in that of the fugitive. Despite his enormous weight and awkwardness of action, the grizzly without special exertion could have made the leap that had just been exhibited before his eyes had he been in his usual condition, but it has been shown that he had been struck by several bullets. Though most of these inflicted little more than flesh wounds, which under the circumstances were trifling, yet others did effective work. This was especially the case with those that found a lodgment in his head, which, big and tough as it was, lacked the power of turning aside a rifle-ball, as the indurated back of an alligator often does.

  It is to be supposed that the enraged grizzly did not comprehend the possible weakening of his colossal power through the effect of these pellets, and it is quite likely that even with such weakening he would have accomplished the leap of the canyon, but for the interference of an incident which cannot be considered in any other light than providential.

  Fred Greenwood's anguish was for his companion, whom it seemed impossible to help, despite the desperate effort he was making to do so. He saw the grizzly lumbering after Jack, giving no heed to the shots he sent after him, but steadily gaining upon the fugitive, whose fate hung in the passing of the seconds. Fred knew what it meant when his friend abruptly changed his course and began skirting the canyon in his frantic hunt for a narrower place. The bear was so close upon him for several paces that the terrified Fred stopped short, ceased shooting, and held his breath, expecting the great beast to strike down his comrade. The younger lad could do no more, and, staring at the two, he asked in agony that heaven would not desert his friend.

  Suddenly Jack Dudley rose like a bird in air. At the instant the monster was upon him he made the leap, landing on the further edge, as has been told, and quickly scrambling upon solid foundation. Had he been ten seconds later nothing could have saved him, for the grizzly showed no more hesitation than he in making the jump.

  At the instant Fred read the brute's intention he brought his rifle to his shoulder. Unsuspected by himself, the last cartridge in the magazine of his Winchester was in the chamber of the weapon, so that, if it failed to help, the service of the younger lad was at an end for the time, for it would be all over before he could bring into use any cartridges from his belt.

  To make the leap to which we have referred the grizzly changed his position. Until that moment he had been running straight away from Fred, but now, of necessity, he turned partly toward him. Recalling the words of Hank Hazletine, Fred aimed at a point just back of the foreleg, as it reached forward. The ball sped true to its aim, and entering, perhaps, the most vulnerable point of the body, did more than all the other bullets that had found a lodging-place in the grizzly, for it inflicted a mortal wound.

  It was this fact that destroyed the effort of the bear at the crisis of its inception. The attempt already put forth carried him well beyond the side of the canyon, but it failed to land him firmly on the other margin. His forepaws went over the top, precisely as the hands of Jack Dudley had done, and began a furious scratching of the flinty surface, while the hind feet clawed with equal fierceness the inner side of the wall. The brute was striving to save himself, and it is to be presumed would have done so but for the cause named.

  That last shot told the story. The shot had seriously weakened the bear, and his mighty strength was fast oozing away. His struggles grew less vigorous, though they continued up to the last moment. Jack Dudley had become aware of what was going on, and, stopping in his flight, shouted:

  "Shoot him, Fred, before he can climb out!"

  Fred attempted to do so, but discovered he had no more cartridges at command. Since the bear at best could not harm the younger, he ran forward to the side of the canyon, just behind the beast. Jack had paused, so that both wer
e looking at the grizzly, whose huge head and massive shoulders protruded above the edge of the canyon. While they looked the head dropped from sight, followed by the forefeet, whose claws scratched over the flinty surface as they slipped backward.

  Knowing what had occurred, Jack and Fred ran to the edge and looked down. They were in time to see the mountainous bulk tumbling into the vast chasm. The body maintained a horizontal posture, as in life, until it struck a projecting point which sent it bounding against the other side, where the impact added to the tendency of the first blow, and the body turned over and over, like an immense log rolling down hill. Despite the gloom of the abyss the sun was shining so brightly, and was in such a favorable position, that everything was seen with distinctness.

  Peering downward, the awed and grateful boys saw the black mass suddenly strike the foamy waters and send the spray flying in all directions. It disappeared for a moment and then popped up like a rubber-ball, and went dancing down the current toward the break in the walls which they had visited a brief while before.

  Still silent and watching, they observed it dancing up and down with the violence of the stream until its motion was arrested by striking an obstruction, which held it motionless. There it stayed for the remaining minutes spent in peering into the abyss.

  Jack and Fred looked up and across the canyon at the same instant. They were directly opposite, and hardly twelve feet apart. The elder took off his hat and called:

  "Are you ready?"

  "Yes," said Fred, removing his head-gear.

  "All together!"

  And then they swung their hats and hurrahed with the vim which, all things considered, was justified by events. They were happy and grateful, and neither forgot to thank, with all the fervency of his nature, the One who had delivered them in safety from the very jaws of death. No matter what other dangers might come to them, there could be none narrower or more striking than that through which they had just passed.

  "Do you intend to stay on that side of the canyon?" asked Fred.

  "I don't know that there is any choice between our places, but if you feel lonely I'll come over to your help."

  "I thought you might want to pick up the gun you threw away."

  Jack looked at each of his hands in turn and laughed.

  "Do you know I had forgotten all about that? I don't remember having thrown it aside."

  "I saw you do it, and it was a lucky thing you did."

  The two walked beside the canyon until they came to a straight place, where Jack easily made the leap and joined his friend. Then they set out to recover the Winchester, which, as matters stood, was almost beyond value to them.

  "I can't recall the spot where I dropped it," remarked Jack, allowing his companion to take the lead.

  "I do; you and I were doing such tall running then, and for some minutes afterward, that we covered more ground than would be supposed. That's the spot, just ahead."

  He indicated an open space, thirty or forty feet in width, lying between a ridge of boulders, over which it was astonishing how the fugitive had managed to make such good progress.

  "We shall find it right there——"

  Fred checked his words, for at that moment they came upon the spot he had in mind and both swept their gaze over it. Their dismay may be imagined when they saw nothing of the Winchester.

  "You must be mistaken as to the place," said Jack.

  "I can't be; it was just after you had leaped down from that low boulder that you gave your right arm a swing and away the gun went."

  "Did you notice where it landed?"

  "I can put my hand on the very spot."

  "Do so."

  Fred led the way a few paces and said:

  "It was there, and nowhere else."

  Jack bent over and carefully studied the earth.

  "My gracious! you are right; that dent in the ground was made by the stock of my gun, and it couldn't have gone its own length further."

  The space was clear for several yards, and they would have discerned a small coin lying anywhere on it, but nothing suggesting a weapon was in sight.

  A momentary consternation took possession of them. Only one conclusion was possible: some person had taken the Winchester.

  "Do you suppose it was Hank, who wanted to have some fun with us?" asked Fred.

  Jack shook his head.

  "At any other time I might believe it, but Hank isn't one to look for fun when the lives of two persons are in danger. It wasn't he."

  "Who, then, could it be?"

  Again Jack shook his head.

  "You know there are a number of Indians hunting in this neighborhood. Some of them may have been near us, and, hearing our cries and the reports of our guns, started to find out what it meant. Coming upon my Winchester, they carried it off."

  This was the most reasonable explanation they could think of, but it did not lessen their disappointment at the loss of the indispensable weapon.

  "I won't stand it!" exclaimed Jack, whose indignation was rising; "the man who took that gun must give it back!"

  It was impossible to know in what direction to look for the pilferer, but the youth's long strides led him toward the break in the walls of the canyon where they had seen the three Indians earlier in the forenoon. Whether it was reasonable to expect to find them, or rather the thief, there, would be hard to say, but Jack did find the one for whom he was looking.

  Half the intervening distance was passed, when he turned his head and said in an excited undertone to his companion:

  "He's just ahead, and as sure as I live the thief is Motoza!"

  Before Fred, slightly at the rear, could gain sight of the Indian, Jack broke into a lope and called:

  "Hold on there, Motoza! You have something that belongs to me."

  The dusky vagrant was alone and walking at a moderate pace from the youth. Although he did not look around until hailed he must have known he was followed, but he stopped short and wheeled about with a wondering expression on his painted face.

  There could be no mistake by Jack Dudley, for Motoza was carrying two Winchesters, one in either hand, and a glance enabled the youth to recognize his own property.

  "Howdy, brother?" asked Motoza, with the old grin on his face.

  Jack was too angry to be tactful. He continued his rapid strides, and as he drew near reached out his hand.

  "Never mind how I do; give me my rifle."

  But with the fingers of Jack almost on the weapon, Motoza shifted his hand backward, so that the gun was held behind his body. He did not stir, but continued grinning.

  "What do you mean?" demanded Jack, his face flushed, and his anger greater than before; "didn't you hear me ask for my gun?"

  "Whooh! brother frow way gun—me pick him up—he mine."

  "I threw it down so as to have a better chance of getting away from the grizzly bear; I intended to pick it up again. I know you are a great thief, Motoza, but you can't steal that Winchester from me; hand it over!"

  And Jack extended his hand again; but the Sioux persisted in keeping the weapon behind him, though his own was in front, where the lad might have been tempted to snatch it from his grasp.

  The youth was fast losing his self-command. He had learned the character of this vagrant from Hazletine, and it was plain that he meant to retain the valuable weapon, while Jack was equally determined he should not.

  "I tell you for the last time to give me my gun! Do you hear?"

  The demand was made in a loud voice and accompanied by a threatening step toward the Indian, who showed no fear. The grin, however, had left his face, and he recoiled a step with such a tigerish expression on his ugly countenance that his assailant ought to have been warned of his danger. Motoza, the Sioux, was ready to commit murder for the sake of retaining that which did not belong to him.

  "Stop!" commanded Fred Greenwood, whom both seemed to have forgotten in the flurry of the moment.

  The younger was standing a little to the rear and to one
side, but his Winchester, it will be remembered, was in his hand, and was now pointed at the dusky scamp.

  "Motoza, if you want to preserve that sweet countenance of yours, hand that gun to my friend before I let daylight through you!"

  * * *

  CHAPTER XIII.

  A STRANGE OCCURRENCE.

  Once more Motoza had allowed an American youth to get the drop on him, for he could not mistake the meaning of that command, nor the deeper eloquence of the pose of Fred Greenwood with his rifle at a dead level. The Sioux must have despised himself for his forgetfulness.

  But he had already proven the readiness with which he accepted a situation, no matter how unwelcome. The hand that held the weapon of Jack Dudley whipped round to the front with a deft movement, which, however, was not quicker than the return of the grin to his countenance.

  "Motoza friend—he not want gun of brother," he remarked.

  "You wouldn't get it if you did want it," said Jack, not to be mollified by this sudden change of front. Instead of accepting the hypocritical proffer, the youth was imprudent enough to add, as he felt his Winchester once more in his grasp:

  "You are the meanest thief in the country, Motoza, and this must be the last time you try your hand on us."

  "Off with you!" added Fred, beginning to tire with the constraint of his position; "good-by, Motoza, and I hope we shall not meet again."

  At the moment of obeying, the Sioux glanced at the lad who had thus turned the tables on him. The expression of his face was frightful. Ferocious hate, thirst for revenge and flaming anger shone through the coat of paint and were concentrated on the younger of the youths. Fred saw it and cared not, but Jack was so alarmed that he almost wished his comrade would fire his weapon and thus shut out the fruition of the horrible threat that gleamed through that look.