The bear, dripping blood from its many wounds, still fierce as a raging tiger, came at Frank. The boy dodged, managed to avoid the rush, and gave the beast a wicked stab with the knife.
"Dog my cats!" murmured the dazed guide once more.
Frank Merriwell's face bore a look of fearless determination, and he was ready for the bear to charge again.
It came.
Frank tried to repeat the trick, slipped a bit, saw he could not escape, and then met the formidable beast.
"Now he is a goner!" gurgled Old Rocks, faintly.
With outstretched paws the bear closed in.
Frank saw he was not going to be able to escape the hug, and he placed the haft of the knife against his own breast, with the point directed toward the bear.
The grizzly folded Frank in his embrace, crushing the lad against his shaggy breast, and, in this way, the creature drove the knife home to its own heart.
Uttering a great groan, it relaxed its hold, dropped on all fours, hung its head, and then sunk in a heap upon the ground, dying.
Frank felt as if his ribs had been crushed, and he was covered with blood, but he had conquered.
Old Rocks was so dazed that he sat on the ground, staring at the "tenderfoot kid," and faintly gasping:
"Dog my cats!"
Frank flung the knife to the ground, and then sat down, panting, in a desperate endeavor to get a full breath.
Old Rocks got up very slowly, stood looking at the dead bear some moments, and then looked at the boy.
"This beats me!" he grunted. "Whoever heard o' a tenderfut doin' sech a thing! An' he didn't seem ter be scart a tall!"
Then he came nearer Frank, at whom he still stared.
"It ain't a mistake, none whatever. This yar kid done it, and he done it in great shape! Say, youngster."
"What?"
"I wants ter 'polergize."
"What for?"
"Fer sayin' tenderfeet never has sand. I'll take it all back. You've got sand enough fer anything, you hev! Do you know whut you done? Wa-al, a grizzly is harder ter kill then a hull tribe o' Injuns! I wuz dead lucky ter kill t'other one by a chance shot, an' I'd never done it ef I hedn't been so nigh ther muzzle o' my rifle wuz right up ag'in' ther varmint. You worked an old hunter's trick on him. Thet fust jab you gave ther whelp kinder spruced him up, an' he wuz ready ter crush ther stuffin' outer yer. By holdin' ther knife ez yer did, yer made him kill hisself. Guv us yer hand! I'll swar by you through thick and thin!"
So they shook hands again.
* * *
CHAPTER XXXII.
TRAILED DOWN.
"Ther trail's gittin' derned hot, boy!" said Old Rocks, near sunset. "Ther p'izen varmints can't be fur ahead."
They were passing through one of the wildest sections of the park. Mountains, capped with eternal snow, were on every hand. Their sides were seamed with mighty chasms and strewn with huge bowlders, many of which, it seemed, the weight of a hand would send crashing and thundering into the dark depths below.
Some of the mountains bore traces of vegetation, pine and cedar showing darkly on many a jagged cliff. Some were bleak and barren, but none the less grand, impressive, and awe-inspiring.
Amid these mountains were desolate canyons, which seemed to hold some dreadful secret locked fast in their silent bosoms.
Since the encounter with the grizzlies Old Rocks and Frank had paused to eat a square meal of bear-steak, and it had braced them for the tramp, so they were able to cover ground swiftly without fatigue or discomfort.
They had passed through a region of boiling geysers, where the water shot more than a hundred feet into the air, and came down in a rain, across which a beautiful rainbow formed, the roaring sound which accompanied this exhibition being as loud as the exhaust of a thousand locomotives.
In one marshy valley they had passed pools of water, sulphur yellow, bright green, pink, crimson, and nearly all colors of the rainbow, the pools being from twenty to fifty feet apart.
They had seen other things which were not given a second glance by Old Rocks, but which Frank longed to stop and examine.
But it was no time for sight-seeing, as the boy well knew, and he held close to the heels of the unwearying guide.
And now, near nightfall, Old Rocks declared that the trail was getting hot.
"Shall we be able to overtake them before dark?" asked Frank, with the greatest anxiety.
"I dunno," was the answer. "But it's derned certun thet we ain't goin' ter come fur from it."
"Oh, for two hours more of daylight!" sighed the boy.
"We'd run ther critters down dead sure in thet time. But I don't want yer ter git ther idee thet they're goin' ter give up ther gal 'thout a murmur."
"But they will have to give her up."
"Thet's whatever. All ther same, we may hev ter fight, an' ole Half Hand is a mighty bad critter ter buck agin'; you hear me shout!"
"I am ready to fight, if necessary."
"Ef I'd heerd yer say so this mornin', I w'u'dn't putt no dependence on it; but now I'll allow thet yer means whut yer says, an' yer've got sand ter give erway. Boy, you're a holy terror on trucks, an' you may quote me ez sayin' so."
Frank did not smile.
"Wait," he said. "I may not show up so well in the encounter with the Blackfeet. I was lucky in the bear fight."
"Wa-al, dog my cats ef you ain't ther fust tenderfut I ever saw thet wouldn't hev bragged his head off ef he'd killed a grizzly! Why, boy, you don't seem ter know whut ye've done! You've made a record. Ary other tenderfut I ever saw'd go back East an' publish ther story in all ther papers. He'd be hailed ez a mighty chief an' a tin god on wheels."
"Tenderfeet are not all braggarts, any more than Westerners are all brave men."
"Thet's whatever," nodded Rocks; "but it's took me a gaul derned long time ter find it out."
The sun was low behind the western mountains, and darkness was filling the great canyons.
The guide swung onward at a steady pace, following the trail with the same readiness and ease that had proved a source of wonder all along to his companion.
It was evident the Blackfeet had not anticipated hot pursuit, and so they had made little or no effort to hide their trail after passing across an arm of the lake.
The trail grew hotter and hotter, but night came on swiftly, and Old Rocks was forced to bend low and keep his eyes on the ground.
"Watch out ahead, boy," he directed. "I've got all I kin' tend ter in follerin' ther trail. Don't let us run plump onter ther varmints, fer they might take a notion ter wipe us out."
So Frank followed the guide, keeping his eyes to the front, and watching for danger.
Darker and darker it became. Rocks was forced to proceed more slowly, as there was danger of losing the trail entirely.
Finally he found it necessary to stop now and then and examine the ground thoroughly.
"We shall not overtake them before dark, shall we?" asked Frank, anxiously.
"Hard tellin'. Watch out. May run onter 'em any time."
When they halted again, Frank suddenly uttered a low cry of warning, caught hold of the man, and exclaimed:
"Look there!"
Through the darkness they saw the twinkle of a camp-fire.
"Thet settles it!" breathed Old Rocks, exultantly. "The skunks are thar! We've run 'em down!"
He gave no further attention to the trail, but straightway made sure that every weapon he possessed was ready for use.
"Now, boy," he whispered, "keep yer nerve. Thar'll be need enough o' it afore long."
"I am with you," assured Frank. "I do not think I shall lose my nerves in this case."
"Wa-al, I don't," confessed the man. "I've got heaps o' conferdence in yer now. We'll creep up."
Then followed something that sorely tried the patience of the boy, for Old Rocks seemed to crawl forward like a snail, taking advantage of every cover that would shield them from the sight of any one in front.
The guide warned Frank to "hu
g ther ground," and made him creep, and skulk, and wiggle along when there seemed no need of it.
In this way they slowly drew near to the fire, about which figures moved now and then.
"It's ther onery Blackfeet," the guide finally announced. "We hev done a good job so fur ter-day, an' now we wants ter finish it right, you bet!"
"What do you mean to do?" asked Frank.
"Make a bluff," was the answer.
"What kind of a bluff?"
They had reached a point where they could look into the camp and see the savages feasting on some kind of game they had killed and cooked by the fire.
"I'm goin' in thar an' demand ther gal," said the guide.
"Won't that put us in their power?"
"You won't go with me."
"No?"
"No. You'll keep in ther background."
"What for?"
"As a reserve force. You must keep yer peepers open, an' ef you see ther skunks is goin' ter do fer me, jest open up on 'em. I reckon you kin shoot some?"
"Yes."
"Take good keer not ter bore me."
"I will."
"But, ef yer start, pump ther lead ter ther critters ter beat ther Ole Nick."
"I will do it."
"Make sure whar ye're puttin' yer bullets, fer ye don't want ter kill ther leetle gal."
"You may depend on me."
"While you're slingin' lead I'll try ter git ther gal an' git erway with her."
"Won't we get into trouble if I should kill one of these Indians?"
"How?"
"Why, the Blackfeet are peaceable, and it may create a disturbance. We may be hauled over the coals."
"Haul an' be derned! Ther onery varmints hev kidnaped a white gal, an' they're poachin' on forbidden territory, besides bein' off ther reservation. Ef they try ter kill me, it will be a case o' self-defence. I'll allow as how we kin defend ourselves. You do ez I say, an we'll come out all right, dog my cats ef we don't!"
"All right."
"But don't shoot 'less yer hev ter, remember thet."
"I will remember it."
"Ef I hedn't seen ther b'ar, an' seen hwar yer putt five bullets inter him inside ther space uv a silver dollar, I might be skerry 'bout lettin' yer shoot inter thet camp while I wuz thar; but I'll admit ez how I reckon ye kin shoot."
They now crept forward till they were within easy shooting distance of the camp, and then Rocks paused once more, putting his lips close to Frank's ear, and whispering:
"See them rocks down thar?"
The boy nodded.
"Wa-al, jest you creep down behind them an' take yer position ready ter sling lead."
"What are you going to do?"
"Git inter ther camp. I'm goin' ter walk in from t'other side, so they'll be lookin' fer any further danger frum thet quarter. Don't git impatient, fer it'll take me some time ter git round thar. Wait easy."
"I'll wait."
Then the old man crept away into the darkness, and Frank began working his way down to the rocks.
He finally reached the position, and there he waited, being able to look into the camp and see every figure revealed by the flaring fire.
The little girl was there, exhausted by the day of hardships, sleeping soundly. One of the Indians had thrown a greasy blanket over her, so she was protected from the night air, which is always chilly in Yellowstone Park.
Frank's heart throbbed with sympathy as he gazed down on her.
"Poor little Fairy!" he thought. "How she did cling to me! I am ready to wade through fire and water for her. We will save her to-night if we live!"
He found it difficult to restrain his impatience as the time crept slowly away and Old Rocks failed to appear. Some of the Indians rolled themselves in their blankets and prepared to sleep. Others sat and smoked in grim silence.
Frank had spotted Half Hand, and he felt that it would be some satisfaction to send a bullet after the villainous half-blood.
"He is at the bottom of this business," thought the boy. "He would not hesitate at murder."
Nearly an hour passed after Old Rocks crept away before the guide appeared. At last, to the astonishment of Frank and the utter consternation of the Indians, the man seemed to rise up in the very midst of the camp, as if he had suddenly sprouted from the ground.
* * *
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE RESCUE.
A yell of astonishment broke from the throats of the Indians who were awake, and it brought the sleepers out of their blankets in a moment.
With the utmost coolness, Old Rocks stepped toward the fire, sat down on a log near the sleeping child, and took out his black pipe.
"Any o' you fellers got any good smokin' terbacker?" he asked, coolly. "I ain't got northin' left but chawin', an thet's derned pore stuff ter burn."
"Ugh!" grunted the Blackfeet, staring at him in unutterable amazement.
"Hey?" questioned the guide. "Whut did yer say?"
"Where white man come from?" demanded Half Hand, harshly.
"Over yon," was the answer, and Rocks made a sweep of his hand that took in half the horizon.
"What white man want here?"
"Terbacker."
The Indians looked at each other, and then looked at the cool visitor, their amazement not a whit abated.
"Ugh!" they grunted in chorus.
"Wa-al, I'll allow thet you fellers know whut thet means all right," drawled Old Rocks, whimsically; "but dog my cats ef I do! Do I git ther terbacker? ur do I hev ter pull my liver out tryin' ter make chawin' terbacker burn?"
"Ain't got no 'backer," declared Half Hand, sullenly.
"Thet may be so," admitted the guide, "an' may be 't'sn't. Howsomever, I don't s'pose I've got any license ter search ye."
He then appealed to the other Indians, but they all affirmed that they did not have a morsel of tobacco in their possession.
"Blamed ef I ever saw sech a pore crowd," grunted Old Rocks. "Wa-al, I'm goin' ter smoke."
He pretended to search round in his pockets, and, after a time, he drew forth a small bit of tobacco, uttering an exclamation of satisfaction.
"Dog my cats ef I ain't got a leetle mite o' smokin' terbacker left, an I 'lowed I wuz all out! I kin git erlong with this yere comfortable like."
He drew his knife, and began whittling at the tobacco, seeming to pay not the least attention to the Indians around him.
The Blackfeet were troubled, for they did not know what to make of the old fellow. Some of them put their heads together and spoke in their own language, but Rocks had sharp ears, and he understood them well enough to get the drift of what they said.
They were wondering if he had come there alone, or if he had companions near.
"Where come from?" Half Hand again asked.
"Over yon," the guide once more replied, with a sweep that was fully as wide as before.
"Ugh! Where others?"
"What others?"
"Others that be with you?"
"Over yon."
Again that wide and baffling sweep of the hand.
Half Hand scowled blackly.
"What white man here for?"
"Terbacker."
Old Rocks was most aggravating in his answers. He calmly filled his pipe, and then lighted it with a coal from the fire.
"Thar," he said, flinging one knee over the other and settling into an easy position, "now I kin enjoy a good squar' smoke."
Up behind the rocks the boy saw Rocks had not taken his rifle into the camp, and Frank knew well enough that was so he might not be incumbered with it if forced to take to flight suddenly and make an attempt to get away with the child.
The little girl heard his voice, and sat up, rubbing her eyes. She stared at him in wonderment, but he still pretended that he did not see her, puffing on.
One of the Indians attempted to grasp the child and draw her back, but she saw him, avoided his hands, and ran to Rocks, crying:
"Oh, I's awsul dlad you've tome! Tate me to
my mamma! I don't lite dese drefful mans!"
The Indian made a jump for her, but Old Rocks caught her and swung her beyond the Indian's grasp, exclaiming:
"Hello! hello! Whatever is this yar? Dog my cats ef it ain't a babby—an' a white babby, at thet!"
"Don't you 'member me?" asked Fay, innocently. "I 'members you."
"See hyar, Half Hand," said Old Rocks, grimly; "this yar looks kinder queer. How did you come by this white babby?"
"Found her," sullenly answered the half-blood.
"Is thet so?"
"Ugh."
"Wa-al, whar wuz yer takin' her?"
"Nowhere."
"Seems ter me it didn't look thet way."
The half-blood said nothing, but he and his companions were beginning to finger their weapons.
"You may hev found her all right," admitted Old Rocks; "but yer made a mistake in keepin' her. I'll take her now."
"Dunno 'bout that," muttered Half Hand.
"Whut?" roared the old man, suddenly aroused, having thrust his pipe into his pocket. "You dunno? Wa-al, I will allow thet I know! Look yar, you'll be gittin' inter one o' ther derndest scrapes you ever did ef you tries ter kerry off this yere gal. It'll be reported, an' ther United States soldiers will take an' hang yer all!"
"Bah!" sneered the half-breed. "Who care for soldiers! We find gal; she b'long to us."
"Not much!"
"What white man do?"
"Take her."
"Him can't."
"Dog my cats ef I don't!"
"Him can't git erway."
The Blackfeet had formed a circle about Old Rocks.
"Stiddy, critters!" he warned. "Don't try ter stop me, fer ef yer does, som' o' yer will bite ther dust."
"White man give up gal, we let um go 'thout hurtin'."
"Thet's kind; but I reckons I'll hev ter be hurt, fer I'll never give her up."
"Then white man dies!"
One of the Indians slipped up behind Old Rocks and lifted a hatchet to split open the head of the guide.
Crack! the report of a rifle rang out.
A yell of agony broke from the lips of the Indian, and the hatchet dropped from his hand. A bullet had shattered his forearm.
Frank's aim had been true, and he had saved the life of Old Rocks.
At that instant, just as the guide stooped to lift the child, a man broke through the circle of savages and snatched up the child, tearing it from the fingers of the guide, to whom he cried:
Frank Merriwell's Bravery Page 17
