Ted Strong in Montana

by Taylor, Edward C

  The men had fallen back into their blankets and were sleeping again, while Silver Face resumed his place before the fire.

  Soon Stella, began to yawn, and her eyes grew heavy with sleep.

  But she did not want to sleep. She had a foreboding that if she slept she would be in danger.

  However, the dancing flames and the soft, comfortable heat which came from the fire were too much for her resolution, and her head began to droop, and presently her body sank gently down, and, as she pillowed her head on her arm, she fell into a deep sleep.

  How long she slept she did not know, but when she awoke it was light.

  The fire had burned low, and she felt cold and numb.

  Staggering to her feet, she looked around. The camp was deserted.

  The men were gone, and so were the horses. Beside the fire was a considerable pile of wood, and Stella hastily pulled the embers of the fire together and threw several sticks upon it. As the fire blazed up and she grew warmer, she tried to review the situation.

  Why had the men who had captured and brought her thus far deserted her? Had they been frightened away by the proximity of the boys? No, it could not have been that, for the boys were far away.

  Then a thought of horror flashed across her mind. She had been brought here to perish in the wilderness. Probably Silver Face and his men, desiring to wreak vengeance upon Ted, and feeling that keeping her a prisoner would be too much of a burden, had brought her into this dangerous place to leave her a prey to the wild animals that she knew infested the forests.

  If they had only left her Magpie, she might have stood some chance of escaping.

  But her fortitude soon returned to her. She was not dead yet, and, while she had a fighting chance, she would not despair.

  Something of pity must have moved the men, for she found that they had left her revolver and her rifle beside her in the lean-to, and that in a pile not far from the fire was food enough to last her for several meals.

  She set about cooking some breakfast, and caught herself singing as she did so.

  After she had eaten she sat down in her shelter to think a way out of her predicament.

  She was in the midst of a reverie when she was brought to her feet by that most dreaded of sounds—the howl of the timber wolf.

  For a moment she stood trembling, trying to think what her best course would be.

  The wolves had smelled the frying bacon from afar, and had been attracted to it, for the scent had carried far in the clear air.

  From another direction came another wolf cry, and presently they seemed to come from every direction.

  They were far away as yet, but the wolves were gathering.

  Without trying to reason further, Stella gathered up what food she could carry, and, grasping her rifle, struck out into the forest in the direction away from that from which the howls of the wolves came to her.

  Suddenly to one side appeared a slinking, gray form, which slunk along, apparently dodging behind the trees, but following her.

  As it came from behind a tree in fair sight, she swung her rifle to her shoulder and fired.

  It was a strike, for the wolf, with a howl of pain sprang in the air, then rolled over on the snow and lay still.

  As the report of the shot reverberated back from the mountains, it was followed by a perfect crescendo of wolf howls.

  They sounded louder and nearer now, and Stella's heart began to beat rapidly with fear.

  Too well she knew what would happen if they caught her.

  But suddenly a thought came to her, and she stopped.

  Surely Ted and the boys would come to find her. They might even now be on the way, and who could say they were not far away?

  If she could only send them a message to let them know that they were on the right trail!

  Her face lighted up with an inspiration. She had the means.

  Breaking a stick from a low-growing tree, she began to write in the snow:

  "I am followed by a wolf pack. Hurry." "Stella"

  These were the words she left behind her for Ted to read should he come that way.

  Then she hurried on with all speed.

  Every few minutes the howls of the wolves assailed her ears as she struggled on through the snow.

  Her burden of food was becoming very heavy, and she cast away a part of it.

  Perhaps, she thought, it would serve to stop the wolves for a while when they found it on her trail.

  Every moment seemed to bring the cries of the wolves nearer.

  They were following in her footsteps now, for the noise was all behind her, not scattered over the forest, as it had been at first.

  The brutes had gathered into a pack, and Stella shuddered as she pictured in her mind the gray band coming upon her with long, loping, tireless strides; with red, long, lolling tongues and slavering, sharp-fanged jaws.

  Presently she heard another noise behind her, and looked over her shoulder.

  The sight that met her eyes caused her to almost faint.

  Not twenty yards behind her was an enormous gray wolf, loping along easily but as swiftly as a horse.

  His eyes were blazing like green lamps, and his great body was scarred and torn. Evidently he was the king of the pack.

  Stopping suddenly, she drew her revolver and fired two shots at him.

  He came to a halt with a snarl of rage and began biting at his shoulder.

  Then Stella turned and ran again, with the clamor of the pack close behind her.

  But she was failing, and her run had become a painful stagger, and her breath came in gasps.

  She was near the end, and she realized it. She fancied herself falling into the midst of that ravenous crew and shuddered. What could she do to save herself?

  Not far ahead was a tree with a forked branch growing low enough for her to reach it if she still had strength to get so far. With almost a superhuman effort she continued her flight toward it.

  As she reached it the great, gray king of the pack was only a few feet behind her, so close that she could hear him pant from his long run.

  She reached up to the branch and tried to pull herself up, but it was an impossible task burdened with food and rifle and her coat, which she had removed at a time when she had stopped long enough to write another message in the snow for Ted.

  She threw the rifle in the snow and tried it again, but she could not, and then cast aside the food and the coat, and succeeded in clambering into the sheltering nook just as the great wolf, leaping into the air, swept past her, carrying in his teeth a shred of her skirt. She was safe, but by a very narrow margin.

  She looked up into the tree, for the branch upon which she was perched was so near the ground that she was not safe from the leaps of the savage and famished brutes.

  But the next higher branch was far beyond her reach or her ability to climb to.

  She must defend herself as best she could.

  Fortunately she had retained her revolver and had a good supply of ammunition.

  As the old wolf leaped again she fired, and knew that the ball had entered his neck. If she could shoot him often enough, she ought to kill him after a while.

  But now the clamor was all about her. The pack had arrived, and was leaping about the foot of the tree like waves upon a storm-tossed shore.

  Her red coat had been torn to shreds, and, in the fight over the food she had cast aside, more than one of the brutes had met his death by the razorlike teeth of his comrades.

  Suddenly, through the din about her, Stella lifted her head and listened, while for a moment the wolves ceased leaping and howling and stood listening also.

  From afar off, and very faintly, there came to her a subdued cheer. Her heart leaped with hope. Could it be the boys who were signaling to her?

  But now the wolves, even more savage than before, were leaping at her, their saber teeth snapping within an inch of her, as she fired into their faces, and laughed as she saw them roll upon the snow in their death agony.


  Again she heard a faint cry in the forest. Oh, if she should be wrong, and it was not the dear old Moon Valley yell, she would die.

  Now the old king of the pack returned to the attack.

  He was bigger and stronger than any of the others, and when he snapped at them with his terrible teeth they made way for him.

  He began a succession of leaps at her, and every time she planted a bullet in his massive and seemingly invulnerable body.

  But each leap brought him closer to her perch.

  The next jump might be the one by which he would reach her, she thought, and that surely would be the end, for, if he ever succeeded in getting his hooked fangs fastened in her clothes, she would be pulled from the tree in an eye twinkling, and she shuddered as she thought of the sequel.

  The end seemed very near, and she had about given up hope of holding out until the boys could reach her, when a well-known yell was wafted to her on the frozen air. The boys had come.

  She felt the fangs of the king of the pack fasten in her skirt, and she knew that she was being pulled out of her perch when, through the woods came Ted and Bud and Ben, and the rest of her friends, yelling like mad and amid a perfect fusillade of rifle shots.

  Then she began to slide out of the tree. But she did not reach the ground, for Ted was there, and she slipped naturally and without harm into his arms, as the last of the pack that remained alive escaped into the forest.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XII.

  WHO WHIPPLE WAS.

  There was great rejoicing when Stella so far recovered from the strain which she had been undergoing, to learn that Bud was safe, although he had passed a very uncomfortable as well as perilous night tied to a tree with the cold numbing him, and wolves sniffing and snarling at him.

  These he had been able to keep off for several hours by kicking them whenever they got close enough.

  But he was rapidly becoming exhausted when in the distance he heard shouts.

  Ted and the boys had ridden to the west until they realized that it was useless to go any farther, for they had not come upon the trail of Bud and Stella, and Ted came to the conclusion that they had gone in the opposite direction.

  But it was almost night when they turned their faces to the east, and day was dawning when they heard Bud's cry for help, and rescued him by driving the snarling pack from his heels.

  When they had heard his story about the man with the silver face and his crew, and the fact that they had taken Stella away with them, the boys waited only long enough to make a fire to thaw out Bud, and to make some coffee, and took up the broad trail.

  When they came to the deserted camp they were almost sure that Stella had gone on with her captors, and were about to follow the trail.

  Had they done so, Stella would have perished in the woods. But Ted had one of his "hunches" that Stella was not far away, and rode around the camp in a wide circle.

  He was soon rewarded by finding the prints of Stella's shoes in the snow, and, concluding that she had in some manner escaped from her captors, he called the boys together and started on her trail.

  They had not gone far when they, too, heard the howls of the wolf pack, and knew that Stella was in great danger.

  Presently they came upon Stella's message in the snow and obeyed her injunction to hurry.

  They had been compelled to leave their horses at the camp, for the forest was too dense to permit them to ride.

  When Stella told them of her adventure and about Silver Face and the stolen cattle, they decided to push forward on the trail, and, if possible, regain their stolen property.

  At the camp they remounted, and, having to ride double where Bud and Stella were concerned, made but slow progress.

  But the trail was broad and good, and they made good time as compared with a slow cattle drive.

  Early in the afternoon Ted became conscious, in that remarkable way of his, that not far ahead some one was on the trail.

  Stella was riding behind him, for the boys had taken turns in carrying her so as not to burden any one horse too much, and he transferred her to Kit's pony, and, telling the boys to move forward slowly, rode on ahead to scout.

  Ted wanted to see for himself this wonderful Silver Face, who was impervious to bullets, and who could fire them from his chest with no apparent effort on his own part.

  Ted was also affected as the others had been who had seen him; that is, by the mystery of the creature.

  He had ridden quite a distance ahead of the party, and had just entered into the pass of a cañon which seemed to broaden out into a respectable valley farther on, when he was brought to a halt by the scream of a rifle ball close to his head.

  This was warning enough, and he scurried into the shelter of a huge rock that jutted from the cañon wall.

  In a few minutes he emerged from it and rode back over the trail.

  When the party came up with him he told them of the shot.

  "It's my opinion," he said, "that Silver Face and his men and our cattle are in that cañon or valley, but how to reach them I don't know."

  "S'pose we go scoutin' on ther hills above, an' take a look," said Bud. "Stella an' ther boys can cache ther hosses an' hide, er come erlong with us."

  "Very well," said Ted. And so they did. Hiding their horses in a thick glade of cedar trees, they climbed in single file up the side of the mountain, and were soon in an advantageous position, from which they had a good view up and down the valley.

  A curious sight met their sight.

  In the center of the valley they saw their bunch of steers close herded by several cowboys, while not far away two men were butchering one of the steers.

  "They're going to have beef for dinner," said Ted, with a grin.

  "I hope it chokes 'em," growled Bud.

  "Or that they never get a chance to eat it at all," said Stella.

  Lounging around the fire were a party of Indians, but, though Ted could not see from that distance whether or not they were the followers of Crazy Cow, he thought most likely they were.

  The great figure of Silver Face could easily be picked out from among his followers, even were it not from the reflected light from his silver mask whenever the rays of the sun smote it.

  Close to the west wall of the valley, and huddled under its shelter, were a number of Indian tepees, while farther on were several white canvas tents.

  "Boys, we've stumbled upon the permanent camp or rendezvous of the outlaw Indians, and the members of the Whipple gang," said Ted.

  As they were looking they saw a young woman, dressed as cowgirl, and with long, blond hair hanging down her back, come out of one of the tents, and look over the scene.

  Silver Face strode to her side, and then began a strange pantomime between the pair with her hands. This convinced Stella that the man with the silver mask was unable to talk.

  "I don't see how we are going to get at those fellows," said Ted.

  "They do seem to be pretty well fixed to defend themselves," said Ben, who was lying flat on the rocky edge of the cañon wall, looking into the scene below.

  "Oh, Ted," cried Stella, grasping the arm of the leader of the broncho boys. "Look there. It is Magpie, my pony. There isn't another like him in the world. We must get him back, Ted. Think of letting a dirty Indian outlaw ride and abuse the splendid fellow."

  "All right, Stella," replied Ted. "Show us how to do it successfully, and we'll go down and tackle the whole mess."

  "See, there's an Indian throwing his filthy blanket on Magpie's back. I can't stand that."

  Stella put her rifle to her shoulder, and was about to pull the trigger when Ted's hand closed down over the lock of the weapon.

  "Not on your life," he said. "This is not the time for anything like that. If we were to get them after us right now we'd last about as long as a snowball on a hot stove. Wait a while."

  While Stella said nothing she was angry clear through. It hurt her like a blow to have her pony ridden by another.
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  The Indian, having fastened his blanket on the pony's back to his satisfaction, sprang upon his back, and began to lash him with a quirt.

  "Oh, the brute!" exclaimed Stella. "I hope Magpie throws and kills him for his cruelty."

  Magpie wheeled and bucked under the unusual punishment, and the Indian continued to beat him.

  "I can't stand it any longer," cried Stella, gnashing her pretty, small, white teeth.

  This time she got her rifle to her shoulder, and, before she could be restrained, had fired a shot. Perhaps Ted knew that the provocation was great, for he did not interfere this time.

  At any rate, the ball flew close enough to knock the hat from the Indian's head, and cause him to dismount and scurry to the shelter of the rock wall.

  But it caused the greatest excitement in the camp.

  The man with the silver mask rushed forward, rapidly scanning the cliff for whoever had fired the shot.

  He did not have long to search, for the smoke hovering over the spot where Stella was lying on the top of the cliff was advertisement enough.

  A man by his side handed him a rifle, which he sighted, then took down as a puff of smoke rose above him.

  Then there followed the smash of a bullet on the rock, a foot below where Stella was lying.

  "Pretty close work," said Ted. "That fellow is a corking good shot. Look, he's coming to shoot again. Duck! I'll bet he gets the range this time."

  Every head went out of sight. Then came the sharp report of the rifle, and the ball from it shattered the edge of the rock not far from Stella's head.

  "That'll be about enough of that," said Ted, picking up his own Winchester. "We'll have to stop that fellow's fun, or he'll end by hurting some of us."

  Ted poked the barrel of his Winchester over the edge of the rock, adjusted the sights, took a short aim, and fired.

  Then he looked to see the result of it, and saw the man with the silver face drop his rifle, stagger to the side of the cañon, and sink down.

  "By jove! I got him," exclaimed Ted. "I believe that from here we can drive that whole bunch out of the valley and get back our cattle and horses, if we dodge back and shoot straight. We'll try it. Every fellow get ready to fire."