The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  “There is no doubt of it, though I am sorry to say that it did not end his career right away.”

  “It’ll sarve him the good turn of givin’ him time to think what a maan spalpeen he is any way, and that’s a good deal. And so ye say they was mounted on horseback: what has become of thim?”

  “They rode in among the trees over yonder, near where we kindled the fire and cooked the buffalo steak.”

  Terry walked out to the edge of the prairie, and shading his eyes, peered in that direction.

  “I can see nuthin’ of thim; they must have found out that ye hadn’t any frinds there after all the fuss ye made, and it may be they will come back to sittle with ye.”

  “If I alone could attend to them, do you think we together have any thing to fear?”

  “Of course not, if it’s only thim three, but we have seen so many of the spalpeens that they won’t be loikely to foind much trouble in scarin’ up a few hundred more and makin’ it uncomfortable for us.”

  “Well,” replied Fred, with a sigh, “I am so relieved and thankful to know how well we got through it all, that I am hopeful we shall have no great trouble during the rest of the way. We ought to be able to reach the camp by tomorrow night if we don’t have any interruption.”

  The young friends surely had good reason to feel grateful for their deliverance from the perils of the morning, and with hopeful hearts they walked along the margin of the wood until they came to the point where the trail turned to the left. Over this they started at a brisk pace, Fred slightly in advance of his companion, for the path was not broad enough for them to walk any other way with freedom.

  “Terry,” said the elder, “do you think it possible that the three Winnebagos with whom I had the trouble could be the three that we met last night, when we were about to cross the stream?”

  “Niver,” was the emphatic reply; “how could they have got around so far in front? It was a good many miles the ither way that we saw the same!”

  “I have thought of that, but, you know, we spent several hours in sleep, during which they might have turned back.”

  “But where could they have got their horses?”

  “They may have had them within easy reach?”

  “It couldn’t be.”

  “I guess you are right; we hadn’t a very good view of them last night, though the moon shone on them when they were wading the stream and I had a fancy that one of them looked like the fellow I hit when I fired.”

  “All a fancy,” insisted Terry.

  “Well, there’s no use of guessing, for any way it must be only a guess; but where do you suppose Deerfoot is?”

  “I’ve been thinkin’ of the fellow and it saams to me that it’s time he showed up.”

  “I wonder whether he could have passed us in the night.”

  “That couldn’t be, for he meant to stay near the camp-fire where we lift him till he found out what the spalpeens were goin’ to do, and he couldn’t have got that chance till mornin’.”

  “Unless they made a start last night.”

  “Which the same they didn’t do.”

  The boys were more in want of water than food, and fortunately they had not gone far when they struck another stream, narrow enough for them to leap across, and which afforded them a draught with which to quench their thirst.

  “Now,” said Fred, “since we have had such a good breakfast, we will think of nothing more to eat until night.”

  “I don’t know about not thinkin’ of the same,” said Terry doubtfully, “but I am with ye in agraain’ that we won’t go out of the path to hunt any of the same onless—that is, onless we should think what I’ve brought along isn’t aqual to our appetites.”

  “We must have passed considerably more than half the distance between home and the camp in the mountains,” added the elder, some minutes later; “so, if all goes well, we ought to be with our friends some time tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I’m of the opinion,” remarked the sagacious Terry, “that Deerfut sint us on ahead last night so as to git us out uv the way; thim pritty legs of his can travel so fast that he wanted a chance to stritch the same without waitin’ fur us.”

  “More than likely you are right; whenever he thinks it necessary, he will branch out ahead of the Winnebagos and overhaul us; so even though we see nothing of him, we ought not to feel much concern.”

  “How about the wither, me lad?”

  Fred had noticed since resuming their journey, that the sky, which was clear and sunshiny in the morning, had become overcast. The sun was no longer visible, and a chilliness in the air warned them that the fine weather could not last much longer. They had not only been favored in this respect, but for several days before leaving home equally charming skies had spanned them. And so, in accordance with the laws of our changeable climate, a disagreeable turn was to be expected.

  “I was hopeful that it would keep off until we reached camp,” said Fred, looking up through the tree tops at the darkening sky; “but that is too much, and we must take it as it comes.”

  “Push on as fast as ye choose.”

  Taking his friend at his word, Fred broke into a slow, easy trot, not much more rapid than an ordinary walking gait, but one which they could keep up a long time, where the ground was not too rough. Terry of course did the same, and they covered fully two miles in that manner, when they slackened their pace before an extensive rise of the ground. But for that, they would have gone much further at the same speed.

  Some fifteen minutes were spent in clambering up the stony incline, when they descended into a broad valley, the path still rough and difficult of passage. They recognized a dull but increasing roar as made by a rapid torrent, and ere long stopped on the edge of a stream fifty feet wide, which dashed and foamed over the rocks, breaking into eddies, and agitated pools, falling in foamy cataracts and splashing forward again with a rollicking freedom that formed one of the prettiest and most romantic sights on which they had ever looked.

  Directly at their feet was a curious formation. By some means at a remote day, a number of hard stones had been flung downward and given a spinning motion, which, acting on the softer sandstone beneath, had begun hollowing it out, as if by the chisel of an engraver. This strange operation had gone on for years, until a bowl a dozen feet across and half as deep had been formed. It was almost mathematically round, very smooth and with a tapering shape to the bottom that made the resemblance to an enormous punch bowl strikingly accurate.

  This formation (which in accordance with the taste prevailing in all parts of our country, should be christened the “Devil’s Punch Bowl”), was full of limpid water, fed by a slight overflow from above and overrunning and flowing calmly over the lower rim. In the bottom lay three stones, looking like cannon balls. These were the tools with which the stream had carved the Devil’s Punch Bowl. Having done their work, they were resting in the bottom, where they had lain for a period that could not be guessed.

  Out beyond, a thin sheet of the water hung like a transparent curtain over the edge of the rocks. It was so smooth and unruffled that it seemed stationary, like a film of glass, but, after striking the stones below, it broke into foam, whirlpools and eddies, which helped to form as lovely and picturesque a scene as the most devoted lover of nature could long to see.

  The picture was so pretty indeed that the boys stood for several minutes lost in admiration. They had never viewed any thing of the kind, and it was something that would always be a pleasant memory to them.

  But, great as was their admiration, there was a startling question that came to them: how was this interesting stream to be crossed?

  In front and up and down the bank, the eyes searched in vain for a ford. It was idle to think of ferrying themselves over, while the cascades, pools, eddies and general “upsetting” of a broad deep stream, made its passage as perilous as that of the rapids nearer home in which the two had come so near losing their lives.

  “There is no possible way by wh
ich we can reach the other side,” said Fred, after they had walked a few rods up and down the stream.

  “I don’t obsarve any way mesilf,” was the response of Terry.

  “But there must be, for how could father and the rest have crossed?”

  “They may have put up a bridge.”

  “But where is the bridge? There are no signs of any thing of the kind,” said the bewildered Fred; “they couldn’t have made a bridge without leaving it behind.”

  “The high water has swipt it away.”

  Fred stood surveying the stream and the banks, for several minutes, during which he once more walked back and forth, but he was right when he said that the place had never been spanned by even the simplest structure, for it could not have been done without leaving some traces behind.

  This being the case, the mystery was greater than ever; for it was certain that at that hour their friends were many miles distant on the other side.

  “This is a little ahead of any thing I ever heard tell of,” remarked Fred, taking off his cap and scratching his head, after the fashion of Terry when he was puzzled.

  “It couldn’t be,” ventured the latter, who also had his cap in his hand and was stirring up his flaxen locks, “that they carried a bridge along with ’em.”

  “Impossible!”

  “That’s what I thought, as me sicond cousin remarked whin they told him his uncle carried his shillaleh a half mile and passed two persons without beltin’ ’em over the head.”

  “There’s something about this which I can not understand.”

  Terry turned and looked at him in his quizzical way and solemnly extended his hand. Fred shook it as he wished, though he was far from feeling in a sportive mood.

  “They must have crossed,” he added, replacing his cap with some violence, compressing his lips and shaking his head in a determined way; “do you walk up the bank, while I make a search in the other direction; we must find the explanation.”

  The proposition was acted upon, Terry clambering carefully along the slippery bank and over the rocks, until he was fully a hundred yards from his friend, who busied himself in doing the same thing in the opposite direction.

  All at once the Irish lad shouted. Looking up to him, Fred saw that he was beckoning him to approach.

  “I knew there must be something of the kind,” thought Fred, who after much labor placed himself beside his friend.

  To his disappointment, Terry had paused before the worst part of the series of cascades. It was at the broadest portion of the stream, where the falls, whirlpools, eddies and deep water would have turned back the most skillful swimmer.

  “What do you mean?” asked the astonished Fred.

  “I thought I’d show you the place where they didn’t cross,” was his reply, and then he broke into the merriest laughter, as well he might, for he had solved the mystery.

  CHAPTER XXXII

  The Terror in the Air

  “Do obsarve where the trail comes down to that big bowl?” asked Terry, pointing to the huge, circular cavity below them.

  “Of course.”

  “Well, that’s a mistake; that isn’t the right trail.”

  Fred turned about, and jumped and ran back to the Devil’s Punch Bowl, at a rate that threatened his neck. Stooping over, he carefully examined the path. He saw that his companion was right; the trail which they had followed to the edge of the stream was one that had been worn by animals in coming to and going from the Punch Bowl. You will admit that no better punch in the wide world could be furnished the dumb beasts than that which was thus freely given to them.

  As if to confirm that which did not need confirming, a large buck at that moment appeared in the path, within a hundred feet of where Fred had straightened up, after examining the trail. He threw up his head on catching sight of the young hunter, gave one quick, inquiring stare and then whirled about and was off like a flash.

  Fred Linden could have brought him down at the moment he wheeled had he chosen to do so, but he recalled his own proposition to Terry some time before, about firing such a shot. Indeed, since they had some of the cooked buffalo steak left, there was no call to use any more ammunition for game.

  Terry Clark came laughing down the rocks, looking upon the whole business as one of the funniest of incidents, but to Fred it was any thing but a laughing matter. Time was becoming of the utmost value, and this divergence from the trail meant delay—a delay, too, whose length could not be guessed. If they had turned aside several miles back, it was more than likely that they would lose all the advantage gained by the laborious travel of the night before.

  “How could we have made such a blunder?” asked Fred, his eyes wandering back over the path, as though searching for an explanation of the mistake; “I suppose at the point where the trails cross the direction isn’t changed much and this is more distinct than the other. Terry, I can’t see any thing about this to laugh at.”

  “I don’t obsarve much of the same mesilf,” said the other, whose face nevertheless was on abroad grin; “I wasn’t laughing at yersilf, or the mistake we made.”

  “What was it then that amused you so much?”

  “I was thinkin’ how funny it looked to see the deer and bears and buffaloes and foxes and panthers all standing round that big bowl and winkin’ at each ither while they drank their health.”

  “Terry, there’s going to be trouble because of this blunder.”

  “What do ye signify be the same?”

  “I believe that all the advantage we gained by traveling so hard last night is lost. When we follow this trail back until it reaches the main one, more than likely we shall meet the Winnebagos at that point, if they will not actually be between us and the camp in the Ozarks.”

  “I’m afeard it’s not all a falsehood that ye are telling me,” said Terry, with an expression in which there was nothing like a jest.

  “Let’s be off then.”

  At this juncture the Irish lad made a proposition which his companion accepted, for he thought it promised them much saving in time and travel.

  It was quite certain that the false trail followed pretty much the same direction as the true one: at any rate there could be no doubt that it crossed the stream which had stopped them, so instead of picking their way back for several miles, they decided to keep along the edge of the water itself until they struck the path.

  To make sure of avoiding another blunder, one should have gone up and the other down stream, for manifestly they could not be certain they were above or below the true path; but each felt too strong a misgiving about such a course. Their surroundings required mutual support.

  Beside this, they were convinced that the trail which they wished to recover lay above instead of below, so that, when making their way they were not held back by any doubt, though each could not fail to see that it was only a piece of guess-work.

  Fortunately for their peace of mind, they were right, and the plan saved them much time and travel. They had not gone very far, when they came upon the path, marked so distinctly that there could be no possible mistake.

  The width of the stream was about the same as below. The water was smooth, deep, clear and sluggish. The bank sloped gently down from each side and on the other shore were plainly seen the prints of the hoofs where the animals had left the water. It was so deep that whoever went over there had done so by floating or swimming.

  The crossing was so far above the point where the cascades began, that nothing was to be feared from them. The clumsiest raft could be ferried over by a child before it would drift into danger, while in case of swimming, the peril was still less.

  “If it wasn’t so chilly,” said Fred, “I would propose that we swim the stream.”

  Terry shivered and shook his head.

  “We must go over on a raft; it is not only cowld, but is gittin’ cowlder.”

  “There’s a storm brewing; it looks as black as ink off yonder.”

  At this moment the boys made a
discovery which both pleased and alarmed them. Such a float as they needed was at their call. There lay a half dozen logs and trees fastened together by several withes, and with enough buoyancy to bear them to the other side. Even the pole to be used in propulsion lay upon the heavy timbers that were pulled just far enough against the bank to prevent them floating off with the current.

  While it was pleasant to know that they would not have to go through the labor of constructing any thing of the kind, yet there was a cause for fear in the presence of the structure which led them to hesitate several minutes before using it.

  It proved that some one had crossed from the other side upon it, while the withes were so white and fresh at the angles, where they were twisted open, as to show that the raft had been made but a short time.

  The natural question was as to who could have been coming from the other way.

  “I know,” said Terry, compressing his lips and shaking his head.

  “Who?”

  “Winnebagos; they’re so plintiful that it couldn’t have been any one ilse, for they wouldn’t have had a chance.”

  “I suppose you are right,” remarked Fred thoughtfully, “for they do seem to be almost everywhere, though I can’t understand why they should be coming this way.”

  “Suppose there was but one of the spalpeens, and he’d been out on a scout, and was on his way back to the rist of the spalpeens with the news, would it be onraisonable to think he would take a little pains to kaap his leggins and moccasins from gittin’ damp enough to give him cowld?”

  “Well, I can think of no better reason than that, and am willing to believe it is correct, but don’t you see, Terry, that all this goes to prove that we have lost a dangerous amount of time? We ought to have been many miles further on the road than we are.”

  “The buffalo bull had a good deal to do with our impolite tarryin’, and as he is slaapin’ with his four mithers, I maan his forefathers, let him rist in pace.”

  The boys did not allow their words to delay their hands. The raft was shoved clear, and the two took their positions upon it, Fred holding the pole, while his companion looked after the guns. They were astonished to find, directly after leaving land, that the pole, which was nearly twenty feet in length, would not reach bottom.