The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

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by Edward S. Ellis


  “Now,” said Mickey, whose spirits seemed to rise when he found himself astride of his trusty mustang again,“if we don’t have any bad luck, we ought to be out of the mountains by dark.”

  “And after that?”

  “Then a good long ride across the prairie, and we’ll be back again wid the folks.”

  “How glad I am that father isn’t there, that he staid at Fort Aubray, for when he comes along in a few weeks, he won’t know anything about this trouble till I tell him the whole story myself, and then it will be too late for him to worry.”

  “Yes, I’m glad it’s so, for it saams if I had a spalpeen of a son off wid Lone Wolf, among the mountains, I’d feel as bad as if he’d gone in swimming where the water was over his head. And then it will be so nice to sit down and tell the ould gintleman about it, and have him lambaste ye’cause you wasn’t more respictful to Lone Wolf. All them things are cheerful, and make the occasion very plisant. Begorrah, I should like to know where that old redskin is, for Soot Simpson tells me that he is the greatest redskin down in this part of the world. He’s the spalpeen that robbed a government train and made himself a big blanket out of the new greenbaeks that he stole. Soot says that there isn’t room on his lodge-pole for half the scalps that he has taken. Bad luck to the spalpeen, he will peel the topknot from the head of a lovely woman, or swaat child, such as I used to be, as quick as he would from the crown of a man of my size. He’s an old riprobate, is the same, and Soot says he can niver die resigned and at pace with all mankind till he shoots him.”

  “I’ll be very glad to keep out of his way, if he’ll keep out of mine. I wonder why he didn’t kill me when he had the chance, instead of keeping me so long.”

  “I s’pose he meant to carry ye up where his little spalpeens live, and turn ye over to them for their amusement.”

  “How could I amuse them?”

  “There be a good many ways. They might have stuck little wooden pegs in your hide, then set fire to ’em, and then walked ye round for fireworks; or they might fill your ears with powder, and tech it off, and then watched the iligant exprission of your countenance. Or they might lave set ye to running up and down between two rows of ’em, about eight or ten miles long, while aich stood with a big shillalah in his hand, and banged ye over the head with it as ye passed. There be a good many ways, according to what Soot told me, but that’s enough to show ye that Lone Wolf and his folks wouldn’t have been at a loss to find delightful ways of giving the little childher the innocent sport they must have.”

  “I shouldn’t think they would, if that’s the kind of fun they like,” replied the horrified boy.“I’ve thanked the Lord hundreds of times that He helped me get out of Lone Wolf’s clutches, and my dread is that he may catch us before we can get out of the mountain. I don’t believe we could find as good a chance as I did the other night.”

  “Ye’re right; that thing couldn’t happen ag’in. Lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place; but we’ve got good horses, and if he don’t pin us up in the pass, I think our chance is as good as could be asked.”

  “That’s what troubles me,” said Fred, who was galloping at his side, and who kept continually glancing from the tops of the rocks upon the right to the tops upon the left.“You know there are Indians all over, and I wonder that some of them haven’t seen us already. S’pose they do, and they’re behind us, they can signal to somebody ahead, and the first thing we know, they’ve got us shut in on both sides.”

  “That thing may happen,” replied Mickey, who did not appear as apprehensive as his young friend; “but I have the best of hope that the same won’t. I don’t think Lone Wolf knows we’re anywhere around here, and before he can find out, I also hope we shall be beyond his raich.”

  CHAPTER XIV

  Between Two Fires

  Mickey had scarcely given utterance to this hopeful remark when he drew up his mustang with a spasmodic jerk and exclaimed, in a startled in a startled voice:

  “Do you see that?”

  As he spoke, he pointed some distance ahead, where a faint, thin column of smoke was seen rising from the top of the rocks on the opposite side of the canon or pass.

  It will be remembered that the pass of which our two friends availed themselves is the only one leading through the section of the mountains which lies to the eastward of the Rio Pecos. That part over which Fred and Mickey were riding showed numerous winding trails, made by the hoofs of the horses, as they passed back and forth, bearing Apaches, Comanches, Kiowas, and, very rarely, white men. At no very distant intervals were observed human skeletons and bones, while they were scarcely ever out of sight of the remains of horses or wild animals; all of which told their tale of the scenes of violence that had taken place in that highway of the mountains.

  Sometimes war-parties of the tribes mentioned encountered each other in the gorge, and passed each other in sullen silence, or, perchance, they dashed together like so many wild beasts, fighting with the fury of a thousand Kilkenny cats. It was as the whim happened to rule the leaders.

  The rocks rose perpendicularly on both sides to the height of fifty and a hundred feet, the upper contour being irregular, and varying in every manner imaginable. Along the upper edge of the pass grew vegetation, while here and there, along the side, some tree managed to obtain a precarious foothold, and sprouted forth toward the sun. The floor of the canon was of a varied nature—rocks, boulders, grass, streams of water, gravel, sand, and barren soil, alternating with each other and preventing anything like an accurate description of any particular section. A survey of this curious specimen of nature’s highway suggested the idea that the solid mountain had been rent for many leagues by an earthquake, which, having opened this great seam or rent, had left it gradually to adjust itself to the changed order of things, and to be availed of by those who were seeking a safe and speedy transit through the almost impassable mountains.

  Mickey and Fred checked their mustangs and carefully scrutinized the line of smoke. It was several hundred yards in advance, on their left, while they were following a trail that led close to the right of the canon. They could distinguish nothing at all that could give any additional information.

  The fire which gave rise to the vapor had been kindled just far enough back to cause the edge of the gorge to protrude itself in such a way as to shut it off from the eyes of those below. Indeed, it was not to be supposed that those who had the matter in charge would commit any oversight which would reveal themselves or their purpose to those from whom they desired to keep them.

  “That is the same as the camp-fire which troubled the three Apaches so much, and which was the means of my giving them the slip.”

  “It must have been started by some other war-party, so that their ca’c’lations were upsit, and you had a chance to get away during the muss. It was a sort of free fight, you see, in which, instead of staying and getting your head cracked, you stepped down and lift.”

  Unable to make anything of this particular signal-fire, the two friends carefully searched for more. Had they been able to discover one in the rear, they would have been assured that signaling was going on, and they would not have dared to venture forward. Here and there along the sides of the canon were openings or crevices, generally filled with some sort of a vegetable growth, and into most of which quite a number of men could have taken refuge, but which, of course, were inaccessible to their horses.

  “I can’t find anything that resimbles the same,” said Mickey, alluding to the camp-fire, “though there may be some one that is seen by the gintlemen who are cooking their shins by yon one.”

  “Will it do to go on?”

  “It won’t do to do anything else. Like enough the spalpeen yonder has obsarved us coming, and he knows that there’s a party behind us, and, being unable to do anything himsilf, he starts up the fire so as to scare us, and turn us back into the hands of the spalpeens coming in our rear. Mind, I say that such may be the case, but I ain’t sure that it is.”
/>   “I shouldn’t wonder a bit, now, if that isn’t it exactly,” said Fred, who was quite taken with the ingenious theory of his friend. “It seems to me that the best thing that we can do is to ride on as fast as we can.”

  “We’ve got to run the risk of it being all wrong, and fetching up in the bosom of the spalpeens; but it’s moighty sure we don’t make anything by standing here.”

  The Irishman turned his horse as near the middle of the canon as possible. Fred kept close to his side, his mustang behaving so splendidly that he gave him his unreserved confidence. The average width of the pass was about a hundred yards, so it will be understood that if a detachment of men were caught within it they would be compelled to fight at a fearful disadvantage.

  The plan of Mickey and Fred, as they discussed it while riding along, was to keep up the moderate gallop until close upon the fire. They would then put their animals to the highest speed and pass the dangerous point as speedily as possible. They felt no little misgiving as they drew near the dangerous place, and they continually glanced upward at the rocks overhead, expecting that a party of Indians would suddenly make their appearance and open fire.

  The first plan was, as they drew near, to run in as close as possible beneath the rocks on the left, in the belief that, as they overhung so much, the Indians above could not reach them with a shot. But before the time came to make the attempt, it was seen that it would not do. Accordingly, Mickey, who had maintained a line as close as possible to the centre of the canon, suddenly sheered his mustang to the right, until he nearly grazed the wall there. Then he put him on a dead run, Fred Munson doing the same, with very little space between the two steeds. A few plunges brought them directly opposite the signal-fire, and every nerve was strained.

  Both beasts were capable of magnificent speed and the still air became like a hurricane as the horsemen cut their way through it. Fred glanced upward at the crest of the rocks on the left and fancied that he saw figures standing there, preparing to fire. He hammered his heels against the ribs of his mustang and leaned forward upon his neck, in the hope of making the aim as difficult as possible.

  Still no reports of guns were heard; and, after continuing the terrific gait for a quarter of a mile, they gradually decreased it until it became a moderate walk, and the riders again found themselves side by side. Both had looked behind them a dozen times since passing the dangerous point, but had not obtained a glimpse of an Indian.

  “I thought I saw a number just as we were opposite,” said Fred; “but, if so, what has become of them?”

  “Ye didn’t obsarve any at all, for I kipt raising me eye that way, and they weren’t there. The whole thing is a moighty puzzle, as our tacher used to remark when the sum in addition became so big that he had to set down one number and carry anither. The spalpeens must have manufactured that fire for our benefit, and where’s the good that it has done them?”

  “Can’t it be that it was for something else? Can’t it be that they took us for Indians, or perhaps they haven’t seen us at all, and don’t know that we’ve passed?”

  “It does seem as if something of the kind might be, and yet that don’t sthrike me as the Injin style of doing business.”

  They continued their moderate pace for quite a distance further, continually looking back toward the camp-fire, the smoke from which continued to ascend with the same distinct regularity as before, but nothing resembling a warrior was detected. Finally a curve in the gorge shut out the troublesome signal, and they were left to continue their way and conjecture as much as they chose as to the explanation of what had taken place.

  A little later, and when the afternoon was about half gone, they reached a portion of the pass which was remarkably straight, so that the eye took in a half mile of it, from the beginning to the point where another turn intervened. The two friends were galloping over this exact section and speculating as to how soon they would strike the open prairie, when all their calculations were knocked topsy-turvy. A party of horsemen charged around the bend in front, all riding at a sweeping gallop directly toward the alarmed Mickey and Fred, who instantly halted and surveyed them. A second glance showed them to be Indians, undoubtedly Apaches, and very probably Lone Wolf himself and some of his warriors.

  “We must turn back,” said the Irishman, wheeling his horse about and striking him into a rapid gait. “We’ve got to have a dead run for it, and I think we can win. Holy saints presarve us!”

  This ejaculation was caused by seeing, at that moment, another party of horsemen appear directly in their front, as they turned on the back trail. Thus they were shut in on both sides, and fairly caught between two fires.

  CHAPTER XV

  On the Defensive

  At the moment of reining up their mustangs, the fugitives were about equidistant between the two fires, and it was just as dangerous to advance as to retreat. For one second the Irishman meditated a desperate charge, in the hope of breaking through the company that first appeared in his path, and, had he been alone, or accompanied by a man, he would have done so. But, slight as was his own prospect of escape, he knew there was absolutely none for the boy in such a desperate effort, and he determined that it should not be made.

  “Can’t we make a dash straight through them?” asked Fred, reading the thought of Mickey, as he glanced from one to the other, and noted the fearfully rapid approach of the redskins.

  “It can’t be done,” replied the Irishman.“There is only one thing left for us.”

  “What is that?”

  “Do as I do. Yonder is an opening that may serve us for awhile.”

  As he spoke, he slipped off his steed, leaving him to work his own will. Fred did not hesitate a moment, for there was not a moment to spare.

  As he sprang to the ground, he pulled the beautiful Apache blanket from the back of the mustang that had served him so well. Dragging that with him, the two hurried to the right, making for a wooded crevice between the rocks, which seemingly offered a chance for them to climb to the surface above, if, in the order of things, they should gain the opportunity to do so. Mickey O’Rooney, as a matter of course, took the lead and in a twinkling he was among the gnarled and twisted saplings, the interlacing vines, and the rolling stones and rattling gravel. As soon as he had secured a foothold, he reached out his hand to help his young friend.

  “Never mind me. I can keep along behind you. Go as fast as you can.”

  “Let me have the blanket,” said Mickey, drawing it from his grasp. “Now come ahead, for we have got to go it like monkeys.”

  He turned and bent to his task with the recklessness of despair, for, even in that dreadful crisis, he thought more of the little fellow than he did of himself. If he could have been assured of his safety, he would have been ready to wheel about and meet his score or more of foes, and fight them single-handed, as Leonidas and his band did at Thermopylæ. But the fate of the two was linked together, and, sink or swim, it must be fulfilled in company.

  The narrow, wooded ravine, in which they had taken enforced refuge, was only three or four feet in width, the bottom sloping irregularly upward, at an angle of forty five degrees. So long as this continued, so long could they maintain their laboring ascent to the top. Mickey had strong hopes that, with the advantage of the start, they might reach that point far enough in advance of their pursuers to secure some other concealment that would serve them till nightfall, when they could steal out and try their chances again.

  The saplings growing at every inclination afforded them much assistance, as they were able to seize hold with one or both hands, and thus help themselves along. But the vines in many places were of a peculiar running nature and they frequently caught their feet and stumbled; but they were instantly up and at it again. All at once Mickey, who was scarcely an arm’s length in advance, halted so abruptly that Fred ran plump against him.

  “Why don’t you go on?” asked the panting lad.

  “I can’t. Here’s the end.”

  So it was,
indeed. While pressing forward with undiminished effort, the Irishman found himself suddenly confronted with a solid, perpendicular wall of rock. The narrow chasm, or fissure, terminated.

  It was like a fugitive, his heart beating high with hope, checked in his flight by the obtrusion of the Great Chinese Wall across his path. Mickey looked upward. As he stood, he could, with outstretched arms, touch the wall on his right and left, and kick the one in front—the only open route being in the rear, which was commanded by the Apache party. As he did so, he saw, through the interstices of the interweaving, straggling branches, the clear, blue sky, with the edge of the fissure fully forty feet above his head. His first hope was that some of the saplings around him were lofty enough to permit him to use them as a ladder; but the tallest did not approach within a half dozen yards of the top. They were shut in on every hand.

  “We can’t run any further,” said the Irishman, after a hasty glance at the situation. “We are cotched as fairly as ever was a mouse in a trap, and it now remains for us to peg away, and go under doing the best we can. Have ye your pistol?”

  “Yes; I picked it up again, after throwing it in the face of the grizzly, but it isn’t loaded.”

  “Then it ain’t of much account, as me mither used to say in her affectionate references to me father; but if one of the spalpeens happen to come onto ye too suddent like, ye might scare him by shoving that into his eyes. I’ve got the powder for the same, but the bullets won’t fit it, so I’ll have to do the shooting.”

  They were at bay and the Irishman was right in his declaration that they could do nothing but fight it out as best they might. The question of further flight was settled by the trap in which they were caught.

  They paused, expecting to hear the tramp of the Indians behind them, but, as it continued quiet, Mickey ventured upon a more critical inspection of their fortress, as it may be termed. He found little which has not already been mentioned, except the fact that the wall on their left sloped inward, as it ascended, to such a degree that the width at the top was several feet less than at the bottom. This was an important advantage, for, in case they were attacked from above, it was in their power to place themselves beyond the immediate reach of a whole war party by any means at their command.

 

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