“Now it can’t be that he was only pretending he was asleep all the time,” thought the puzzled lad. “And yet, if he wasn’t, how was it he managed to get away?”
A few minutes’ reflection convinced Fred that it was impossible that there should have been any such thing as he had imagined at first. The more reasonable theory was that some of the Kiowas had returned and taken the body of their comrade away, fearful, perhaps, that some of the Apaches might put in an appearance again and rob him of his scalp. However, whatever the explanation was, Fred saw that his expedition was a failure. There was nothing to be gained by remaining where he was, while there was unmistakable risk of being detected by some of the copper-colored prowlers.
He noticed that the camp-fire bore very much the same appearance as when he last saw it, and the probabilities were that the Kiowas were some distance away at that very time; but the young fugitive had already run enough risk, without incurring any more, and he resolved to spend an hour or two in getting out of the neighborhood altogether.
There was little choice of direction, but it was natural that he should prefer the back-trail, and, clambering down into the ravine again, he turned his face to the southward, directly through the ravine that he had traversed during the day upon the back of Waukko’s mustang.
“I can tell when I reach the place where Lone Wolf and his men left us,” he said to himself. “That will take me a good while, but when I do find it, the trail will be so much larger and plainer that there will be no trouble about following it, but it will take me several days to do it, and it is going to be hard work. I need all the time possible, so I guess it will be best to keep going all night.”
There was not so much amusement in this as he fancied, but he kept it up bravely for some two or three hours, during which he made good headway. The walking was comparatively easy in the ravine, which was one of those openings encountered at intervals among the mountains in the West, and which are known under the name of passes. In many places it would be utterly out of the question for parties to force their way through the chains but for these avenues, which nature has kindly furnished.
The moonlight was just sufficient to make the boy feel uneasy. He could discern objects, although indistinctly, nearly a hundred yards away, and where the character of the gorge was continually shifting to a certain extent there was abundant play for the imagination.
He had been walking but a short time when he abruptly halted, under the impression that he had seen an Indian run across the gorge directly in front of him. This caused a wilder throbbing of his heart, and another examination of his gun, which was loaded, as he had assured himself some time before, and ready at any time to do him one good turn, if no more.
“He wouldn’t have skipped over in that style if he had known I was so near,” was the reflection of the boy, as he sheltered himself in the shadow of the rocks and looked and listened. “How did he know but what I might have picked him off? What was to hinder me? If he did n’t know I was here, why, it ain’t likely that he would loaf along the side of the ravine.”
By such a course of reasoning, he was not long in convincing himself that the way was open for his advance. He hurried by on tiptoe, and drew a long breath of relief when certain that he had passed the dangerous spot. But he was only a short distance beyond when his hair fairly arose on end, for he became certain that he heard the groan of a man among the boulders over his head.
“I wonder what the matter is there?” he whispered, peering upward in the gloom and shadow. “It may be some white man that the Indians have left for dead, and that still has some life in his body, or it may be an Indian himself who has met with an accident—helloa—!”
Just then it sounded again, and a cold shiver of terror crept over him from head to foot, as he was able to locate the precise point from which it came. The frightful groaning did not stop as suddenly as before, but rose and sank, with a sound like the wail of some suffering human being.
As Fred stood trembling and listening, his shuddering fear collapsed; for the sound which had transfixed him with such dread, he now recognized as the whistling of the wind, which, slight in itself, was still manipulated in some peculiar fashion by a nook in the rocks overhead.
“That does sound odd enough to scare a person,” he muttered, as he resumed his walk. “It must be a regular trumpet-blast when the wind is high, for there isn’t much now.”
The two incidents resulting so harmlessly, Fred was inspired with greater confidence, and advanced at a more rapid walk along the ravine, suffering no check until he had gone fully a mile further. Just then, while striding along with increasing courage, he came to a place where the side of the ravine was perpendicular for two or three hundred feet.
He was close to this, so as to use the protection of the shadow, and was dreaming of no danger, when a rattling of gravel and debris caused him to look up, and he saw an immense mass of rock, that had become loosened in some way, descending straight for his head.
CHAPTER XIX
The Mysterious Pursuer
Young Munson made a sudden bound outward, and, just as he did so, a mass of rock weighing fully a dozen tons, fell upon the precise spot where he had stood, missing him so narrowly that the blast of wind, or rather concussion of the air, was plainly felt. The boulder broke into several pieces, its momentum being so terrific that the ground for several feet around was jarred as if by an earthquake.
The lad was overcome for a moment or two, for he realized how narrow his escape was from a terrible and instantaneous death.
“That was a little closer than I ever want to come again,” he exclaimed. “It seems to me that a person is always likely to get killed, no matter where he is or what he is doing. I don’t suppose that anybody threw that down at me,” he continued, in a half-doubting voice, as he stepped a few paces back and again peered into the gloom.
If it had been during the day-time, he might have suspected that some scamp had managed to pry the mass loose, and to send it crashing downward straight for his head. But as the case stood, such a thing could not have taken place.
Fred continued his flight until nearly midnight, by which time his fatigue became so great that he began to hunt a place in which to spend the remainder of the night. He had not yet seen any wild animals, and was hopeful that he would suffer no disturbance from them. The single charge of his rifle was to precious to be thrown away upon any such game as that.
The lad was in the very act of leaving the ravine, when his step was arrested by a sound too distinct to be mistaken. It was not imagination this time, and he paused to identify it. The sound was faint and of the nature of a jarring or murmur. He suspected that it was caused by horses’ hoofs, and he listened but a few minutes when he became certain that such was the fact.
“There must be a big lot of them,” he thought, as he listened to the sound growing plainer and plainer every minute. “I wonder if Lone Wolf and his men have not done what they started to do and are going round home again?”
Judging from the clamping hoofs, such might have been the case. At all events, there was every reason for believing that a party of horsemen were in the ravine and that they were headed in his direction.
Fred made up his mind to wait where he was until they passed by. He had no fear of being seen, when the opportunity for hiding was all that could be desired, and, lying flat upon his face, he awaited the result.
Nearer and nearer came the tramp, tramp, the noise of hoofs mingling in a dull thud that sounded oddly in the stillness of the night to the watching and listening lad.
“Here they come,” he muttered, before he saw them; but the words were hardly out of his mouth when a shadowy figure came into view, instantly followed by a score of others, all mingling and blending in one indistinguishable mass.
The forms of animals and riders were plainly discernible, but they came in too promiscuous fashion to be counted, and they were gone almost as soon as they were seen. Fred was confident that thirty
warriors galloped by him in the stillness of the night.
“I believe it was Lone Wolf and some of his men,” he muttered, as he clambered down from his place among the rocks. Having been thoroughly awakened by what he had seen, he determined to walk an hour or more longer, for he felt that the best time for him to journey was during the protecting darkness of night.
“There ain’t anybody to make me get up early,” he reasoned, “and when I go to sleep I can stick to it as long as I want to. It seems to me that if I walk all I can tonight, and keep at it the most of tomorrow, I ought to be somewhere near the place where we came in among these mountains. Then a day or two’s tramping over the back trail will take me pretty nearly to New Boston—that is, if nobody gobbles me up. I’ve got a rough road before me, but God has guided me thus far, and I’ll trust him clean through. I’ve had some wonderful escapes to tell about—”
He was too wide awake and too much on the alert to forget precisely where he was, or to fail to take in whatever should occur of an alarming nature. That which now startled him and suddenly cut short his musings was the sound of a horse’s hoofs, close behind him.
Fred had been duped by his own fears and imaginings so many times that he could not be served so again, and, as he was not apprehending anything of the kind at that moment, there was no possibility of escape from the reality of the sound. He halted and turned his head like lightning, grasping his rifle in his nervous, determined way as he peered back into the gloom, whispering to himself:
“That must be Lone Wolf or some of the warriors coming back to look for me.”
This was rather vague theorizing, however. Look and stare as much as he chose, he could detect nothing that resembled man or animal. He shrank to one side and waited several minutes, in the hope that the thing would explain itself. But it did not, and, after waiting some time, he resumed his journey along the ravine, keeping close to the shadow on the right side, and using eyes and ears to guard against the insidious approach of any kind of foe.
Sometimes, under such circumstances, when a sound has very nearly or quite died out In the stillness, there seems to come a peculiar eddy or turn of wind, or that which causes the sound, passes for an instant at a point which is so situated as to impel the waves of air directly to the ear of the listener. Fred did not exactly understand how this thing could happen, but he had known of something of the kind, and he was gradually bringing himself to explain the thing in that fashion, when his theory was upset by such a sudden, violent rattling of hoofs, so close behind him, that he leaped to one side, fearful of being trampled upon.
“That’s a pretty way to come upon a fellow!” he gasped, whirling about with the purpose of shooting the red-skin for his startling introduction.
But neither rider nor horseman was visible.
The watcher could scarcely believe the evidence of his own senses. It seemed to him that the Apache, as he believed him to be, must have turned abruptly aside, into some opening in the side of the ravine, but he could not remember having seen any place that would admit of such strategy. When he came to reflect upon it, it seemed impossible.
“Well, that beats everything,” he said, with a perplexed sigh. “That sounded so close that I expected to be run over before I could get out of the way, and now he’s gone.”
He waited some minutes, and, hearing and seeing nothing, once more resumed his stealthy way along the gorge, a new, shivering fear gradually creeping over him, as it does over anyone who suspects himself in the presence of the unexplainable and unnatural.
“I wonder whether they have ghosts in this part of the world?” he said to himself. “I used to hear the men talk of such things, but father said there was nothing in them, and so I didn’t believe them—but I don’t know what father would say or think if he was in my place.”
There was the strong counter-belief, also—the conviction that most likely there was a reality about the thing—which kept Fred on the qui vive. He was determined, if possible, to prevent a repetition of the startling surprise of a few minutes before. He scrutinized the side of the ravine as he walked along, on the lookout for any opening or crevice which would permit a man and a horse to find shelter. It did not seem possible that any retreat that would shelter them could escape the eyes of the lad.
“I haven’t seen any such place yet, so, if the Indian is trying any such trick, he can’t do it here without my seeing him, and if I do—Heaven save me!”
He sprang to one side, again pressing himself back against the rock, as though trying to flatten his body there in order to escape the trampling hoofs. At the same time he cocked his rifle, with the purpose of giving the finishing touch to the Apache who had alarmed him once too often in this fashion.
CHAPTER XX
An Uncomfortable Lodging
A more astounding surprise than before awaited the lad. His hair almost lifted itself as he found himself staring at vacancy, with no sign of a living person in sight. Whatever had been the cause of this mysterious performance, it was very apparent that the solution rested not with the young fugitive.
“I’m tired of this,” he exclaimed, impatiently, after he had waited several minutes, “and it is n’t going to be played on me again.”
With this, he began clambering up out of the ravine, with the resolve to reach some place where no shadowy horseman could ride over him.
The climbing was difficult at first, but he soon reached a point where the inclination was not so steep, and where he could progress with much more ease and facility. In this way he in time reached the upper level, and, believing himself out of range of his phantom pursuer, had time to look about for some sleeping-place for the night.
He frequently paused and listened, but could not see or hear anything of man or beast, and, confident that no danger was to be apprehended from either, he devoted himself to hunting for some refuge, that he could consider secure against molestation. His first inclination was to seek out a place among the rocks, as he was likely to gain room where he could stretch out at his ease and enjoy a few hours’ slumber, but, on reflection, there were several objections to this.
In that part of the world were an abundance of poisonous serpents, and he had a natural dread of disturbing some of them.
“If I can find the right kind of tree, I think that will be the best sort of a place, for nothing could get at me there, and there may be all the limbs I want to make a bed. I guess there’s the location now.”
He was walking along all the time that he had been thinking and talking, and, at this juncture, he approached a straggling group of trees, which seemed likely to offer the very refuge he was seeking. He made his way toward them with quickened steps.
Fred found himself upon a sort of plateau, broken here and there by rocks, boulders, and irregularities of surface, but in the main easy to be traversed, and he lost no time in making a survey of the grove which had caught his eye. There were some twenty in all, and several of them offered the very shelter. The limbs were no more than six or eight feet above the ground, and the largest trees were fifty feet in height, the branches appearing dense, and capable, apparently, of affording as firm a support as anyone could need while asleep.
“I guess that will do,” he concluded, after surveying the largest, which happened to stand on the outer edge of the grove. “If I can get the bed, there ain’t any danger of being bothered by snakes and wild animals.”
Fred naturally pondered a moment as to the best means of climbing into the tree with his gun. It was full size, and of such weight that he had been considerably wearied in carrying it such a distance, but it contained a precious charge, to be used in some emergency that was likely to arise, and no man was wealthy enough to buy it from him. The way that he decided upon was to leave the gun against the trunk of the tree, and then climb in the way that comes natural to a boy. The barrel of course, would bother him a little, but he could pull through very well, and he immediately set about doing so.
As he expected, the gu
n got in his way, but he managed it very well, without knocking it down, and in a few minutes had climbed high enough to grasp the first limb with one hand, which was all that he desired, as he could easily draw himself up in that fashion.
Fred had just made his grasp certain, when he heard a peculiar yelp, and a rush of something by him.
Not knowing what it meant, but apprehending some new danger, he drew himself upon the limb with a spasmodic effort, and then turned to see what it meant. To his amazement and terror, he discovered that it was an immense wolf, which had made a snap at and narrowly missed his heels. It had come like a shadow, making no announcement of its presence, and a second or two sooner would have brought the two into collision.
As Fred looked downward the wolf looked upward, and the two glared at each other for a minute or so, as if they meant to stare each other out of countenance. The wolf was unusually large, belonging to what is known as the mountain species, and he seemed capable of leaping up among the limbs without any extra effort; but wolves are not addicted to climbing trees, and the one in question seemed to content himself with looking up and meditating upon the situation. It seemed to the lad that he was saying:
“Well, young man, you’re up there out of my reach, but I can afford to wait; you’ll have to come down pretty soon.”
“If I only had some powder and ball,” reflected Fred, “I’d soon wipe you out.”
The temptation was very strong to spend the last bullet upon him, but he could not fail to see the absurdity of the thing; besides which, his gun was seated upon the ground, with the muzzle pointed upward at him. He could reach it from his perch on the lowermost limb, but it was hardly safe to attempt it while his enemy was seated there upon his haunches, as if debating whether he should go up or not.
The boy was in terror lest the brute should strike the piece and knock it down, in which case it was likely to be discharged and to be placed altogether beyond his reach. But the dreaded creature sat as motionless as if he were a carved statue in front of some gentleman’s residence, his eyes fixed upon his supper, which had escaped him by such a narrow chance. The situation was about as interesting as it could well be, and, in fact, it was rather too interesting for Fred, who was alarmed at the prospect of being besieged by a mountain wolf.
The Edward S. Ellis Megapack Page 272
