The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  “Yees spake the truth. The dog may be smarter than we is, and I’m thinkin’ it wouldn’t have to be very smart to be in that same fix, and we’ll sarch till we finds out something about him.”

  “It is fortunate for poor Elwood that the night is so mild and pleasant.”

  “Fort’nit for ourselves, be the same towken; for without our fire we’d be rather cool when we slept, and the cold would keep us awake all night.”

  “But we have the blanket with us, and that would protect us at any time, no matter how cold it might be.”

  “Yis,” assented Tim, with a great sigh. “If I only had me pipe under way I’d faal somewhat more comfortable, barring the worriment I faals at the absence of the youngster. May God watch over him through the darkniss!”

  “Amen!” was this reverent response of Howard.

  CHAPTER XXXIX

  The Search

  All through the night Tim O’Rooney and Howard Lawrence sat in close consultation. Hunger and sleep were alike unthought of. Elwood Brandon was lost, and that was all of which they could think or speak. How they longed for the morning, and how impatient they were to be on the hunt! It seemed to Howard as if he could go leaping and flying down the chasms and gorges among the hills, and never tire until he had hunted out and brought back his cousin. Where could he be? If nestling in the branches of a tree, or hid away among the rocks, was he asleep? Or if awake, of what was he thinking? Did he believe that Howard was searching for him? Or did he imagine him also lost? It would not be reasonable to suppose that he had any suspicion of his finding Tim O’Rooney.

  If in the hands of California Indians— But it would be vain to trace out all the thoughts and speculations that ran through the head of the boy. Some of them were of the wildest and most grotesque character, and would assume a ludicrous phase to one whose mind was not in such a whirl of excitement and distress.

  In the gloom of the wood the darkness was so intense that neither Tim nor Howard could distinguish each other, though only a few feet apart. The Newfoundland lay close to his master, seemingly sound asleep, but more heedful than the two of the approach of danger.

  Occasionally through the night the call of some wild animal was heard—sometimes distant and sometimes so near that they started to their feet and were about to enter their canoe and shove out into the stream; but when it came no more they were reassured. Then something like the report of a gun came faintly up the river to their ears.

  These sounds only served to render the night more gloomy and lonely, and to make the daylight the more welcome.

  “Now let’s be off,” said Howard, as soon as it was light enough to distinguish each other’s faces.

  “We must find some means of remembering this place, or we’ll never see the canoe agin, and will be obliged to sail into San Francisco on fut.”

  The boat was drawn entirely out of the water and covered as much as possible with leaves and undergrowth; for it was a loss that under any circumstances they could not sustain. The feat of marking the place so that they could readily return to it from any direction was more difficult; but Howard finally hit upon quite an ingenious scheme. They waited until the sun had approached near enough to the horizon that they could tell precisely the point where it would appear, and then turning their backs against it they walked forward until they reached the hills where Elwood had disappeared. Here they noticed the character and formation of the rocks so particularly that they could recognize them the moment they saw them. Thus the hills were such a conspicuous landmark as to be seen from a great distance; and, as they did not intend to go out of their sight, all they had to do was to hunt till they found this spot, and then walk due east.

  All this was agreed upon, and they were among the hills just as the sun was coming up the horizon. Here, after whistling and shouting for sometime without receiving any response, they concluded to search for the point where the boys separated. This was quite distant, and over an hour was required to find the place, and when it was discovered Howard could not be positive that he was right.

  But as time was of the greatest importance, they pressed on, the dog snuffing the ground as though he had scented the footprints, but he failed to follow them with certainty. Several hundred yards brought them to an opening in the hills just broad enough to admit the body of a man. It was not a tunnel-like opening, but a rent, as if the hills had been pulled a few feet asunder by the power of an earthquake.

  The two paused in doubt before this.

  “He went in there,” said Tim. “He couldn’t help it, no matter how great his hurry.”

  “I am half disposed to believe you; at any rate let us follow it some ways.”

  Terror was running over the ground, as though he had made a discovery, and he finally whisked forward out of sight.

  “That looks as if he were upon his trail.”

  “Yis, or somebody ilse’s; maybe some of the rid gintlemen has took his marnin’ walk in this direction.”

  They followed the path with caution, and were surprised the further they advanced. It wound around and among the rocks, which came so close together as to forbid the passage of a man, and the sides never withdrawing more than a dozen feet.

  “It looks as though it had been made on purpose,” said Tim, gazing around him in admiration.

  Finally, it was broken up among the hills, after winding through every point of the compass for fully an eighth of a mile. It gradually rose from its commencement—occasionally interrupted by sharp ascents—until its termination, when they found they had reached no mean elevation.

  Still the rocks rose on every hand, and shut out their view of the surrounding country, but showed them a specimen of the wild scenery produced in California. The interior of the hills was cut up by chasms, gorges and ravines, and they heard, but did not see, the rush of a small stream of water.

  They stood in silence a few moments and then Howard said:

  “If he is lost in here there is no need of us looking for him.”

  “And why not?”

  “We might search till we died of old age, and never find the least trace of him.”

  “And might discover the poor youngster’s body the first half-hour we spint in looking.”

  This last remark caused Howard to start off at once, fully resolved not to pause again in the search until compelled to do so.

  Terror was constantly commanded to hunt for the trail of the boy, and the dog appeared to understand what was expected of him, for he was running constantly hither and thither, but never gave sign that he had found anything positive.

  This fact led Howard to doubt whether Elwood had preceded them in this place. If he had really been here, he must have passed directly over the spot upon which they were standing, and it seemed hardly possible that the dog could miss the scent. So strong was he impressed with this that he proposed to Tim O’Rooney to turn back and resume their search outside the hills; but he was so sure that Elwood Brandon could never have passed unentered such an inviting opening that he would not consent to withdraw until they examined further.

  Looking around they saw several paths by which they could enter the wild, desolate-looking scene before them. Of course, it was all a matter of chance whether they took the one which had been followed by their lost friend. Tim affirmed that the one that looked the most dangerous and uninviting was surely the right one; but Howard was hardly prepared to admit this. Selecting the most accessible, they carefully followed it for over an hour. In and out among the rocks, sometimes over their tops, then between or around them, down through ravines, and then along their edges, up the stony, earthy sides of the gorges, until at length they halted as they believed in the very heart of this wild looking place.

  “Here we are!” said Howard. “I don’t see how we can advance much further without going out to the other side.”

  “It’s the qua’rest sight I iver looked upon,” said Tim, turning round and round, meaning the wild scenery.

  “But there i
s nothing learned of Elwood.”

  “Niver a sign do I saa of the youngster,” rejoined Tim. “I graive to think we cannot be near him.”

  “We have gone on the wrong track.”

  “I’m a feared so.”

  “Too bad, too bad,” wailed Howard, “what is to come of the poor fellow?”

  “But we can’t till,” hastily added Tim, “do yees put your fingers in your mouth and give that jolly little whistle.”

  Howard Lawrence was in the very act of doing so when his arm was suddenly arrested by his companion, who, with an exclamation of surprise pointed to a ledge of rocks above them.

  CHAPTER XL

  The End of the Search

  About a hundred and fifty feet above them, almost perpendicularly upward, stood an antelope, its small neck outstretched, and its dark, beautiful eyes fixed upon them with a wondering expression. It was on the very edge of a projecting rock where one step more would bring it over.

  “It is jist the jintleman we wants,” whispered Tim, fearful that he would alarm the timid animal. “We’ve ate but once in twenty-four hours, and I’ve jist learned from me stomach that it would have no objection to breaking the same fast; so do yez jist kape still till I pops him over.”

  “Can you hit him?” asked Howard, scarcely less excited than his companion.

  “Be aisy now till ye see the scientific manner I takes to doot.”

  “Well, be quick, for he is likely to vanish any moment.”

  Tim O’Rooney carefully sighted his rifle, took a quick, steady aim, and pulled the trigger. Howard, who was keenly watching the antelope, saw it spring up, and as it came down it missed the cliff and fell almost at their very feet with a violence and crash which must have broken half the bones in its body.

  “Arrah now, an’ wasn’t that done nicely?” exclaimed Tim, in great exultation, as he ran up to the animal with his knife.

  “Are you going to dress it?”

  “Yis; an’ do yez gather what sticks an’ stuff ye can, an’ we’ll have him cooked in a jiffy.”

  Howard set about it, for he understood the wisdom of providing themselves with food in the prosecution of this hunt, which in all probability would employ them for some time to come.

  “Now, I will give the signal,” said he, when his work was completed. “If he is within hearing he will answer it.”

  “Yis; do your bist, while I pays my respects to this gintleman, an’ do ye do the listenin’ while ye are about it, for I’m so taken up with this job that I haven’t the time to attend to that aither.”

  Howard strained his cheeks nearly to bursting, and completely exhausted himself in giving forth those ringing screeches which seem to come natural to all school-boys, and are made by uniting the ends of two fingers, inserting them between the lips, and blowing with all the might.

  He listened—listened—listened—and then repeated the signal with a desperate fierceness that left him no strength at all; but all in vain—the echoes died away among the rocks and hills, but no answer came back.

  “It’s no use,” remarked Tim O’Rooney, who despite what he had said was listening as earnestly as his young friend.

  “The youngster don’t hear us. We’ve got to make a hunt through this old place, and afore we begins it we’ll take something for the stomach’s sake.”

  The fire was kindled in the usual manner, and the dinner was not unskillfully prepared by the Irishman. They ate all they could hold. The dog did the same. Tim lit his pipe, and then declared that he was ready for any duty that might be required of him.

  As they rose to their feet they were somewhat alarmed at the appearance of the sky. It was overspread with dark, threatening clouds, from which issued rumbling peals of thunder and arrowy lines of lightning. They became darker and more tumultuous each moment, until semi-darkness shrouded them.

  “We are going to have a storm,” remarked Howard.

  “Yis; and a good-sized one, too.”

  “We shall have to find shelter for ourselves. If much rain falls, this gorge looks to me as if it will be filled with water.”

  “Worrah, now, but yez are a smart child!” exclaimed Tim O’Rooney, looking admiringly at the boy. “Scarcely mesilf would have thought of the same, and what a credit, therefore, that it should have come into your own.”

  “I see nothing so wonderful about that. Almost any one would see the danger we are in if we remain here when there is much rain falling. It is just the place for a stream of water.”

  “So it is—so it is; and yez can saa that there has wather been running over the stones upon which we are standing.”

  The storm which was so near at hand admonished them to lose no time in seeking shelter. This was a matter of small difficulty, as in such a wild, rugged place there were any number of retreats. They clambered up the path and over the rocks until they reached a point higher yet than where the antelope had stood when pierced by the bullet that had tumbled him over the cliff. They had brought a goodly portion of his meat with them, for there was no telling when they would dare fire a gun again.

  A gaping, overhanging ledge, which fortunately was turned from the direction of the storm, was selected as their house, and here they and the dog nestled and waited for the storm to burst. A few large drops that cracked smartly upon the rocks and stones, was the herald of the coming deluge; and then, at the same moment, with a terrific flash and report, came the rain in torrents.

  They stood and watched the storm as it raged, and when there was a momentary cessation Howard threw his blanket over his head and said:

  “I will run out to the edge of that rock and see whether there is any water in the place where we took our dinner.”

  “Be careful yez don’t tumble over,” admonished Tim, feeling it his duty to say something.

  “Never fear.”

  Howard stepped hastily to the spot and looked carefully over. A tiny stream was just beginning to run through the path they had occupied, which was increasing each moment, and would speedily reach the proportions of a torrent. But, although he saw this, there was something which interested him still more, and that was a party of five Indians attentively examining the remains of the antelope, and the signs around it, as if they were seeking their explanation. They looked down to the ground, and two of them pointed precisely in the direction which Tim and Howard had taken in leaving the place.

  The rain began falling again more copiously than ever, but Howard would not have heeded it had he not been shrouded in the water-proof blanket. Those Indians had found their camp-fire and were at that moment discussing the best method of capturing him and Tim; but the rain came down so furiously that they finally darted away to seek shelter, and Howard thereupon hurried back to his friend and told him all that he had seen.

  “That settles the matter,” he added. “Elwood is in their hands, and if we aint careful we shall be with him, for they are searching for us.”

  “But they can’t find us—that they can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “This rain will wipe out our tracks as aisy as if yees had taken a cloth and done it yourself.”

  “That is true.”

  Howard was greatly relieved when he reflected that this was true, and that he and Tim were in no danger of capture from being pursued.

  The storm lasted several hours, and when it was finished they came cautiously forth and made their way stealthily back to where they had left the canoe. They had deliberated long and earnestly regarding Elwood Brandon, and neither of them had any doubt but what he was in the hands of Indians. They had little fear of his being put to death, but believed he would be held a prisoner until either rescued by Shasta, or a party could be sent from the nearest post to ransom him. They had concluded to make all haste homeward and adopt this method of rescue.

  And now, as they had given him up for a while, it is high time we took him in hand.

  CHAPTER XLI

  A Boy Lost

  When Elwood Brandon separated
from Howard Lawrence on the afternoon of their ramble in the woods, it was with the firm intention of making all haste around the range of hills, and there to unite with him in their hunt for Tim.

  But, like too many boys, he suffered himself to be led from the sure path by the allurements of the false one. His example furnished a striking moral lesson, which he will doubtless remember to the day of his death.

  When we are following the course which conscience tells us is the true one, although it may be rough and stony, and at times most difficult to keep, yet the knowledge of what awaits us at the end should be proof against temptations to turn aside. Woe to him who chides the voice of conscience and listens to that of the charmer!

  Elwood had gone some distance, and was walking very rapidly, when he came abruptly upon the opening in the rocks which has been mentioned in another place.

  “Ah! here is a shorter cut across,” was his reflection as he saw it, and not stopping to think further, he turned and walked rapidly through it. “I will beat Howard,” and he smiled at the thought. “What will he think when he gets around to see me waiting for him? I know he will run so as to be there first.”

  Thus hopeful, Elwood hurried forward, thinking only of the surprise he would give his cousin when they met again. As he found the path taking a most sinuous course, a dim idea came through his head that perhaps after all he had not gained so much by “cutting across.” He would have turned back as it was but for the rapidly increasing darkness and the belief that he must speedily emerge from the eastern side of the hills.

  While walking through a narrow part of the path, he was alarmed by the rattling of some dirt, stones and debris over his head, and before he could retreat or advance he was stricken on the head by several pieces with such violence that he staggered and fell to the ground.

  He was not senseless, but somewhat stunned, and placed his hand on his head to see whether it was cut. Finding no blood, he arose to his feet and replied to the whistle of Howard, which had been ringing in his ears for the last ten minutes.