The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  “Ain’t you going to fire?” asked the lad, who could not understand the delay.

  “Whisht, now! would ye have me slay me best friend?”

  “I don’t understand you, Mickey.”

  “S’pose I’d shot the baste, whatever he is, that would be the end of him; but lave him alone, and he’ll show us the way out.”

  “How can he do that?”

  “Don’t you obsarve,” said the man, who haf got the theory all perfectly arranged in his mind, “that that creature couldn’t get into this cave without coming in some way?”

  There was no gainsaying such logic as that, but Fred knew that his friend meant more than he said.

  “Of course he couldn’t get in here without having some way of doing it. But suppose he took the same means as we did? How is that going to help us?”

  But the Irishman was certain that such could not be the case.

  “There ain’t any wild beasts as big fools as we was. Ye couldn’t git ’em to walk into such a hole, any more than ye could git an Irisman to gaze calmly upon a head without hitting it. Ye can make up your mind that there’s some way leading into this cavern, which nobody knows anything about, excepting this wild creature, and, if we let him alone, he’ll go out again, showing us the path.”

  “I should think if he knew the route some of the Indians would learn it.”

  “So anybody would think; but the crayther has not given ’em the chance—so how can they larn it? If we play our cards right, me laddy, we’re sure to win.”

  “What kind of an animal is it?”

  They were all the time gazing at the point where the eyes were last seen, but the beast was continually shifting its position, so that the orbs were no longer visible. The faint tipping of his feet upon the gravely earth was heard, and now and then the transient flash of his eyes, as he whisked back and forth, was caught, but all vanished again almost as soon as seen. All that could be learned was, that whatever the species of the animal, he owned large eyes, and they were placed close together. Neither of the two were sufficiently acquainted with the peculiarities of the different animals of the West to identify them by any slight peculiarities.

  “I don’t think he can be an ilephant or a rhinoceros,” said Mickey, reflectively, “because such crathurs don’t grow in these parts. What about his being a grizzly bear?”

  “He can’t be that,” said Fred, who had been given time to note the special character of the footsteps before he awoke his companion. “He walks too lightly.”

  “What do you conclude him to be?”

  “If there were such things as wild dogs, I would be sure he was one.”

  “Then I have it; he must be a wolf.”

  “I guess you’re right. He acts just like one—trotting here and there, while his eyes shine like we used to see them when we were camped on the prairie, and they used to hang round the camp waiting for a chance to get something to eat.”

  “It’s aisy to double him up,” said Mickey, who just then caught a glimpse of the eyes again; “but if he’ll show the way out of here, I’ll make a vow never to shoot another wolf, even if he tries to chaw me head off.”

  “How are we going to discover the place?”

  “Just foller him. He’ll hang round a while, very likely all night, and when he finds out there’s nothing to make here, he’ll trot off agin. All we’ve got to do is to do the same, and he’ll show the way out.”

  “It don’t look so easy to me,” said Fred, a few minutes later, while he had been busily turning the scheme over in his mind. “If we only had the daylight to see him, it wouldn’t be so hard, but here he is right close to us, and it is only now and then that we can tell where he is.”

  “Yees are right, for it is n’t likely that we can walk right straight out by the way that he does; but we can larn from his movements pretty nearly where the place is, and then we can take a torch and hunt for a day or two, and I don’t see how we can miss it.”

  There seemed to be reason in this, although the lad could not feel as sanguine as did his companion. The wolf, as he believed it to be, was doubtless familiar with every turn of the cave, and, when he was ready to go, was likely to vanish in a twinkling—skurrying away with a speed that would defy pursuit. However, there was a promise, or a possibility, at least, of success, and that certainly was something to be cheerful over, even though the prospect was not brilliant, and Fred was resolved that failure should not come through remissness of his.

  The continuation of this absorbing story is entitled The Cave in the Mountain.

  THE CAVE IN THE MOUNTAIN

  CHAPTER I.

  A Strange Guide.

  “Well, if he doesn’t beat any one I ever heard of!”

  Mickey O’Rooney and Fred Munson were stretched on the Apache blanket, carefully watching the eyes of the wild beast whenever they showed themselves, and had been talking in guarded tones. The Irishman had been silent for several minutes, when the lad asked him a question and received no answer. When the thing was repeated several times, he crawled over to his friend, and, as he expected, found him sound asleep.

  This was not entirely involuntary upon the part of Mickey. He had shown himself, on more than one occasion, to be a faithful sentinel, when serious danger threatened; but he believed that there was nothing to be feared on the present occasion, and, as he was sorely in need of sleep, he concluded to indulge while the opportunity was given him.

  “Sleep away, old fellow,” said Fred. “You seem to want it so bad that I won’t wake you up again.”

  The boy’s curiosity having been thoroughly aroused, all tendency to slumber upon his part had departed, and he determined that if there was any way by which he could profit any by that wolf, he would do it.

  “He may hang around here for a day or two,” he mused, as he heard the faint tappings upon the sand,“thinking all the time that he’ll get a chance to make a meal off of us. So he will, if we don’t keep a bright look-out. It seems to me that he might be driven out.”

  The more he reflected upon this suggestion of his own, the more reasonable did it become. His plan was to drive out the wolf, to compel him to show up, as a card player might say. Considering the dread which all wild animals have of fire, the plan was simple, and would have occurred to anyone.

  “The camp-fire seems to be all out, but there must be some embers under the ashes. Mickey threw down his torch somewhere near here.”

  Carefully raking off the ashes with a stick, he found plenty of coals beneath. These were brought together, and some of the twigs laid over, the heat causing them at once to burst into a crackling flame. This speedily radiated enough light for his purpose, which was simply to find one of those “fat” pieces of pine, which make the best kind of torches. A few minutes search brought forth the one he needed, and then, shoving his revolver down in his belt, he was ready.

  The light revealed the large beautiful Apache blanket, stretched out upon the ground, while the Irishman lay half upon it and half upon the earth, sleeping as soundly as if in his bed at home. Beyond him and in every direction was the blackness of night. But, looking to his right, he discovered the two eyes staring at him and glowing like balls of fire.

  The animal was evidently puzzled at the sight before him. Fred dreaded a shot from the Indians above, and, as soon as he had his torch ready and had taken all his bearings, he drew the ashes over the spluttering flame. Save for the torch, all was again wrapped in impenetrable gloom.

  The glowing orbs were still discernible, and, holding the smoking torch above his head, Fred began moving slowly toward them. The animal did not stir until the lad was within twenty feet, when the latter concluded that it would be a good thing for him, also, to take a rest.

  “Wonder if he’s been trained not to be afraid of torches,” mused the little fellow. “I hope he hasn’t, and I hope too there won’t be any trouble in scaring him.”

  The lad dreaded another possibility,—that his torch might be suddenly exti
nguished. If that should go out, leaving them in utter darkness, the wolf would immediately rise to a superior plane, and speedily demonstrate who was master of the situation.

  Fred swung the torch several times around his head, until it was fanned into a bright flame, after which he resumed his advance upon his foe. At the very first step the beast vanished. He had wheeled about and made off in a twinkling.

  The lad pressed onward at the same deliberate gait, watching carefully for the reappearance of the guiding orbs. It was not long before they were observed a dozen yards or so further on. The wolf was manifestly retreating. He had no fancy for that terrible torch bearing down on him, and he was falling back by forced marches. This being precisely what Fred desired, he was greatly encouraged.

  “He is making his way out, and after awhile he will reach the place, and away he’ll go. If he’s a wolf or fox, the hole may be so small that Mickey can’t squeeze through, but I think I can follow one of the animals anywhere.”

  After going some distance further, Fred noticed that the animal was not proceeding in a straight line. He would appear on his right, where he would stare at the advancing torch until it was quite close, when he would scamper off to the left, and go through the same performance.

  “He knows the route better than I do, so I won’t try to disturb him,” reflected the boy as he followed up his advantage, with high hopes of discovering the secret which was so important to himself and friend. “I won’t crowd him too hard, either, for I may scare him off the track and fail.”

  The wolf was evidently a prey to curiosity—the same propensity which has caused the death of many bipeds and quadrupeds. The action of the torch puzzled him, no doubt. He had seen fire before, and probably had been burnt—so he knew enough to give it a wide berth; but it is doubtful whether he ever saw a flaring torch held over the head of a boy and solemnly bearing down upon him.

  Fred’s absorbing interest in the whole affair made him wholly unmindful of the distance he was traveling. He had already advanced several hundred yards, and had no idea that he was so far away from his slumbering friend. The fact was that the singular cave was only one among a thousand similar ones found among the wilds of the West and Southwest. Its breadth was not great, but the distance which it ran back into the mountains was amazing.

  The wolf was leading the lad a long distance from the camp, and, what was more important (and which fact, unfortunately, Fred had failed to notice), the route was anything but a direct one. It could not have been more sinuous or winding. The course of the cavern, in reality, was as winding as that of the ravine in which he had effected his escape from the Apaches, and from which it seemed he had irrevocably strayed. Had he attempted to make his return, he would have found it impossible to rejoin Mickey O’Rooney, unless the two should call and signal to each other.

  However, the attention of the lad was taken up so entirely with the task he had laid hold of, and which seemed in such a fair way of accomplishment, that he took no note of his danger. The wolf was leading him forward as the ignis fatuus lures the wearied traveler through swamps and thickets to renewed disappointment.

  “He has some way of reaching the outer world which the Indians haven’t been able to find. Of course not; for, if they knew, they would have been in here long ago. They wouldn’t stay fooling around that opening, where they’re likely to get a shot from Mickey when they ain’t expecting it. Now, if the wolf will only behave himself, all will come out all right.”

  Fearful of being caught with an extinguished torch, the lad kept up the practice of swinging it rapidly round his head every few minutes. When he ceased each performance, the flame was so bright that he was able to penetrate the darkness much further upon every hand.

  On one or two of these occasions he caught a glimpse of the creature as it bounded away into the darkness. In shape and action it was so much like the mountain wolves which had besieged him some nights before that all doubts were removed. He knew it was one of those terrible animals beyond question.

  “Wonder how it is he’s alone? It wasn’t long after I saw that old fellow the other night, when there was about fifty of them under the tree. One of them is enough for me, if he doesn’t give us the slip. Maybe he has come in to find out how the land lies, and is going back to report to the rest.”

  Fred could not help reflecting every few minutes on the terrible situation in which he would be should his torch fail, and the other bring a pack of ravenous creatures about him. They would make exceedingly short work of a dozen like him.

  “It seems good for hours yet,” he said as he held it before him, and examined it for the twentieth time.

  The stick was a piece of a limb about as thick as his arm, and fully a yard in length. It felt as heavy as lignum vitae, and, by looking at the end held in his hand and that which was burning, it could be seen that it was literally surcharged with resin—so much so that, after being cut, it had overflowed, and was sticky on the outside. No doubt this, with others, had been gathered for that express purpose, and there was no reason to doubt its capacity.

  As Fred advanced he caught occasional glimpses of the jagged overhanging rocks, which in some places were wet, the water dripping down upon him as he passed. The fact, too, that more than once both sides of the cave were visible at the same time, told him that the dimensions of their prison were altogether different from what he had supposed.

  “There must be an end of this somewhere,” he muttered, beginning to suspect that he had gone quite a distance,“and I’m getting tired of this tramping. I hope the wolf hasn’t gone beyond the door he came in by, and I hope he has nearly reached it, for it will take me some time before I can find my way back to Mick.”

  CHAPTER II

  Alone in the Gloom

  Before Fred could complete the sentence his foot struck an obstruction and he was precipitated headlong over and down a chasm which had escaped his notice. He fell with such violence that he was knocked senseless.

  When he recovered he was in darkness, his torch having been extinguished. The smell of the burning resin recalled him to himself, and it required but a moment for him to remember the accident which had befallen him. For a time he scarcely dared to stir, fearing that he might pitch headlong over some precipice. He felt of his face and hands, but could detect nothing like blood. The boy had received quite a number of severe bruises, however, and when he ventured to stir there were sharp, stinging pains in his shoulders, neck and legs.

  “Thank God I am alive!” was his fervent ejaculation, after he had taken his inventory. “But I don’t know where I am or how I can get back again. I wonder what has become of the torch.”

  He could find nothing of his flambeau, although he was confident that it was near at hand. Fred believed that he had fallen about twenty feet, striking upon his chest and shoulders. At this juncture, he thought of the wolf which had drawn him into the mishap, and he turned his head so suddenly to look for him that the sharp pain in his neck caused him to cry out. But nothing of the beast was to be seen.

  “Maybe he went over here ahead of me, and got killed,” he thought; “but I don’t think that can be, for a wolf is a good deal spryer than a boy can be, and he wouldn’t have tumbled down as I did.”

  Fred recollected that he had several matches about him, and he carefully struck one upon the rock beside him. The tiny flame showed that he had stumbled into a rocky pit. It was a dozen feet in length, some three or four in width, and, when he stood erect, his head was level with the surface of the ground above. In consequence, it would be a very easy matter for him to climb out whenever he chose to do so; but above all things he was desirous of regaining his torch. Just as the match between his fingers burned out, he caught sight of it, lying a short distance away.

  “It’s queer what became of that wolf,” he said to himself, as he recovered the precious fagot and painfully climbed up out of the pit. “Maybe he thought I was killed, and went off to tell the rest of his friends, so that they can all h
ave a feast over me. I must fire up the torch as soon as I can, for I’m likely to need it.”

  This did not prove a very difficult matter, on account of the fatness of the torch, which ignited readily, and quickly spread into the same thick, smoking flame as before. But Fred noted that it was about half burned up, and he could not expect it to hold out many hours longer, as it had already done good service.

  “I wish I could see the wolf again,” he said to himself, looking longingly around in the darkness, “for I believe he entered the cave somewhere near here, and it was a great pity that I had the accident just at the moment I was about to learn all about it.”

  He moved carefully about the cave, and soon found that he had reached the furtherest limit. Less than twenty feet away it terminated, the jagged walls shutting down, and offering an impassable barrier to any further progress in that direction.

  All that he could do, after completing his search, was to turn back in quest of his friend Mickey. The belief that he was in the immediate neighborhood of the outlet delayed the lad’s return until he could assure himself that it was impossible to find that for which he was hunting, and which had been the means of his wandering so far away from camp.

  Fred occupied fully an hour in the search. Here and there he observed scratches upon the surface of the rocks in some places. He was confident that they had been made by the feet of the wolves; but in spite of these encouraging signs, he was baffled in his main purpose, and how the visitor made his way in and out of the cave remained an impenetrable mystery.

  “Too bad, too bad!” he muttered, with a great sigh.“I shall have to give it up, after all. I only wish Mickey was here to help me. I will call to him, so that he will be sure to hear.”

  As has been intimated in another place, the two friends had a code of signals understood by both. When they were separated by quite a distance, and one wished to draw the other to him, he had a way of placing two of his fingers against his tongue, and emitting a shrill screech which might well be taken for the scream of a locomotive whistle, so loud and piercing was its character.