The Peril Finders

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER FORTY.

  AN UNCONSCIOUS DOUBLE.

  It was all Chris could do in his excitement and alarm to keep fromcrying aloud to his pony to go faster and faster, though after a fewstrides it seemed as if the rider's fear was communicated, and it wastearing over the rocky ground with all its might, making the stones flyas they were smitten in the furious gallop. But fortunately not a wordescaped between the boy's firmly-set teeth.

  Settling himself well down in the saddle, he felt that his only chanceof saving himself from being a prisoner, perhaps from a horrible death,was to trust entirely to his pony, leave it free to go as it willed.

  Of the character of his pursuers there was no doubt. They were Indians,the regular savage Indians of the plains, whose cruelties to settlerswere the theme of many a horrible story told at camp-fire and insolitary shanty. Chris knew of their deeds well enough, but it hadnever entered his mind that the time would come when he would be tearingthrough the darkness over the rugged stones of a rocky gulch, flying forhis life with an ever-increasing pack baying and yelling at his heels.

  For during the first minute or two he had been chased by three or four;after that the numbers, as betrayed by their yells, rapidly increased,till as they secured their pegged-out horses and sprang upon theirbacks, fully fifty must have joined in the chase.

  They were well mounted, too, upon the tough, wiry horses of the plains,quite at home on the roughest of ground, and at first as Chris tore onthey seemed to be gaining upon him fast; but their savage yells, howevermuch they alarmed, had another effect upon Chris's mustang, making thegallant little beast toss its long mane, raise its long, plume-like tailtill it floated out behind, and stretching out neck and legs, its lengthgrowing closer to the track, it tore away like a greyhound, avoidingobstacles as if by some occult force, and making the air whistle by thefugitive's ears.

  Chris could ride well. Many a leading race he had indulged in againstNed on the open prairie-like land long before this expedition, whilesince then the tedium of their journey had often been lightened by a madgallop, as much enjoyed by the steeds as by those they bore swiftlyalong over the level sands; but the boy had never ridden before as herode now. For he seemed to form part and parcel of the wiry littlemustang, as he leaned over towards its straining neck to pat and caressand now and then twine the thick hairs of the mane about the fingers ofhis right-hand, the left that still held the rein allowing it to flaplower against the neck, while each pat and caress was responded to by asnort.

  That seemed no time for thinking, but Chris thought hard--harder than hehad ever thought before. He was not afraid, for there was a strangefeeling of excitement, a wild thrill of exhilaration, accompanying therace, which made him long once more to shout aloud. For himself hethought nothing, but his thoughts were of his father, and the agony anddespair he would suffer if it so happened that his boy was captured andslain; and by degrees these thoughts impressed him so that his desiresbecame centred in one, and that was, to gallop away from the savagepack, leaving them far behind, and riding on and on till he could rejoinhis father in triumph and tell him that he was safe.

  There were moments in that wild race when Chris's excitement grew intofierce exultation, when the stones were flying, the pony's hot breathfloating back to his cheeks, and the yelling of the savages began togrow faint; and then again moments when the mustang's efforts seemed toflag and the yells of the Indians increasing in loudness came nearer andnearer, till the boy had hard work to keep from wrenching himself roundin the saddle to try and pierce the black darkness to gaze defiantly atthe fierce starting eyeballs and gleaming teeth of those who werehunting him for his blood.

  These changes came again and again as the mustang tore along, nowleaving the yells behind, now slackening or seeming to slacken, till theIndians' whoops were very near, ringing behind and even passing thefugitive, to run echoing from side to side multiplying the burst ofcries.

  Then all at once the chase settled down into a wilder gallop, as afeeling of terror influenced the boy.

  "We must be getting nearer the stone in the middle of the gulch where Ihid," thought Chris, "and he'll run full into it."

  But the next moment he felt that they could not be half-way yet, and hisears began to sing in the darkness as the yells of the Indians soundedlouder and louder, while the echoes given back by the closing-in wallswere deafening.

  Nearer and nearer they sounded--those savage yells--and once more Chrisleaned forward to caress the mustang's neck.

  "Oh, go on, old lad," he whispered; "faster, faster, or they'll haveus." And then the whisper, unheard in the turmoil of yell and echo,became a cry of agony embodied in the simple homely words which told ofthe boy's suffering and the despair now gripping him by the heart, forout of the black darkness came a fresh burst of yells that were horriblein their intensity, and full of triumph in their tones, as if those whoshouted were certain of their quarry. Chris's heart sank low indeed,for the end seemed to have come. Involuntarily now both hands clutchedand clung to the pony's shaggy mane.

  For just as it seemed to the fugitive that the foremost horses were uponhim and their riders' hands were outstretched to tear him from hissaddle, the mustang made a sudden swerve and what seemed to be a slip.

  But it did not go down, recovering itself in an instant, but only todrop from a furious gallop into a laboured canter which became directlyafter a painful walk, while Chris felt as if he had received a blowwhich had stupefied him, deadening his hearing so that he only heard theclatter of horses' hoofs and the yelling of the riders as if from adistance, growing fainter and fainter till they died away.

  "What's the matter? Am I hurt?" panted the boy, as, passing the reinover his wrist, he clapped his hands to his temples, sitting upright andswaying with his pony's movements the while.

  The only answer was the hoarse panting of the pony as, evidentlystriving hard, it kept on at the walk, full of effort, and Chris beganto grasp the fact that in the swerve made by the plucky little steed theIndians had swept by at full gallop, while, unnoticed in the darkness,the pony had turned up the side gorge which his master had passed incoming and passed again upon his return, being fast asleep, when themustang had stopped to sniff and hesitate, and finally chosen the waywhich led them right into the Indians' camp.

  "Why, they've missed us," exclaimed Chris, whose heart began now to beatwildly in the fresh excitement of the moment. For his head was stillconfused, and he was trying hard to make out how it was that the Indianshad managed to pass him earlier in the evening, even now being too muchpuzzled to make out the mistake that had occurred.

  For in the great darkness of the narrow gorge they were ascending theboy's brain seemed to participate. He could not grasp that by thisnarrow descent the Indians had gained the gulch directly after he hadpassed to take up his position as scout. In short, all he had room forin his head then was the one great thought, that for the present, thanksto the pony, he had escaped, and for the minor piece of easily-graspedknowledge that the panting beast was toiling--literally climbing up avery steep and narrow rift in the side of the cliff; where he was goingand what was to be the end, he could not tell.

  After a time the efforts of the pony grew less; it ceased to drag itselfup as if forcing its hoofs into the crevices of the rock to climb footby foot. The way was still steep, and the darkness so thick that for atime Chris could make out nothing of the sides; but in time the strip ofpurply-black sky gemmed with stars became wider, the edges not soragged, and all at once it struck the boy that they were not climbingover stones, for the sound of the hoofs was deadened.

  This lasted for a time, during which Chris began to breathe more easilyas he looked about him and questioned himself as to where he was, whilelittle by little the facts came to fit themselves together like thepieces of a puzzle which now seemed very simple, so that it only neededa fresh act on the part of the mustang to make all clear.

  Fully a couple of hours must have passed since the wild hunt in which he
had been the quarry; but there it all was now, as the pony stoppedsuddenly, lowered its head, and began to crop steadily with the soundsso familiar to the hearer, at the soft grass down to which Chris nowsprang, to stand looking about him.

  "Of course," he said. "We must have climbed up here to what fathercalled the tableland, and somewhere farther on, I suppose, we shouldcome to the edge of the cliff and look down into the valley with theopenings facing one.

  "But not now," he said, with a shudder, as he thought of theperpendicular character of the cliff-faces.

  "Yes, that's all clear now; the Indians must have come along here whileI was going along the gulch, and soon after I had passed they got downand turned the other way, making for the valley, and getting in perhapsbefore my people had secured all the stores and things. Oh, what have Idone?" he cried bitterly. "Failed--horribly failed! Now how am I tofind out what has happened since? Has there been a terrible fight? CanI go down now and see?

  "No--no--no," came three dreary answers. "Part of the Indians may bedown there by the built-up cliffs; the others will be coming back soon;and what could I do in this darkness, with it far darker in the valley?

  "If I only knew what has happened since!" he said, with a groan full ofdespair, as, dropping down upon the soft turf, half-sitting,half-kneeling, he gazed in the direction where he supposed the greathollow to be, listened to the _crop_--_crop_--_crop_ of the grazingbeast, and wondered how long it would be before the daylight came.

  It was long--a long and weary time, for there was no sleepy sensationnow. Chris had had his first taste of a very real danger. He could nothide from himself the knowledge that he had been quite near the end ofall his bright, hopeful aspirations. The chase after him had been sosavage that he had no faith in being made a well-treated prisoner. TheIndians had been too ready and too fierce in their onslaught to showmercy, and there was a sickening feeling at his heart respecting whatmight have happened during his long absence. Perhaps they had attackedhis friends directly after reaching the valley, and if so they hadprobably received such a lesson as explained their savage demonstrationupon seeing him.

  "It will all be made clear," thought the boy, "as soon as the daycomes." But all the same he did not feel at all confident about what heasserted, neither did he feel at all happy about himself.

  "How am I to get back to the valley?" he said. "I suppose it would beeasy enough to go down that steep slope into the gulch, but I should besure to find some of the savages waiting for me there, and even if therewere none I don't suppose they all came after me. There were sure to besome left in their camp.

  "What can I do?" he muttered. "There is no other way into the valley,and what can I do alone?"

  He had seated himself in the darkness to watch the stars slowly seemingto pass from east to west, and as he said half-aloud those words aboutbeing alone he slowly fingered the revolver-holster on one side of hisbelt and the hunting-knife in its sheath, which done, he pulled at thestrap which slung his rifle, and getting it round to the front he restedit upon his knees, and began mechanically to examine the breech as if tomake sure that he had cartridges in each barrel.

  They were there safe enough, and he closed the breech and was about todrag the piece into its regular place again; but something struck himwhich made him get the rifle back into position, re-open the breech, andtake out one of the cartridges, before opening his pouch and exchangingit for another.

  A curious sensation ran through the boy's frame as he did this. He feltuncomfortable and as if he were about to do some wrong thing, for thecartridge he withdrew was filled with number six shot such as he woulduse for killing small birds that they could use for their meals, whilethe one he inserted in its place contained a long conical bullet, and heknew he was not putting that ready in case he should encounter a bear.

  He would not own it to himself--he dreaded to think about it--but allthe while he could not help feeling that it must be a duty to defend hisown life, and certainly was one to try and protect his father and hisfriends.

  But Chris Lee was uncomfortable all the same, and tried hard to keep allsuch thoughts back, as he once more began to watch the stars, andlistened to the _crop, crop_ of the pony, which seemed to be revellingin the soft, dew-wet grass, whose pleasant odour rose to his nostrils asthe animal kept on uttering the familiar blowing sound to drive awayinsects before nibbling off tufts and grinding them between its fineteeth.

  "Poor fellow," he said softly; "he saved my life."

  And then he remarked to himself upon its being strange that the mustangdid not go far away from him, but evidently preferred grazing round andround as if it were pleasanter to keep close to its companion, man.

  It was a long, long time, during which, without once feeling the want ofrest, Chris still watched the stars, before he uttered a sigh of relief,for they were certainly growing paler and there was a faint suggestionof light just where, he reflected, the east would lie. Moreover, he waswhere he had hoped he might find himself, and that was not far fromopposite the piece of terraced cliff where he hoped that his friendsmight be.

  He went at once to the pony and led it with him, now moving verycautiously for fear of danger, towards the edge of the cliff, in thehope that as it grew lighter some one might catch sight of him and wavehim a signal that he might take as a piece of advice.

  But it was still dark below, and he knew the folly of expecting to seeany one looking up to where he stood, feeling in his heart that it wasfar more likely that they might be lying in wait for his return far awaytowards the entrance of the gully, ready to cover his retreat if he madean attempt to rush in.

  "But I can't," he said to himself dolefully. "It's impossible to getdown there."

  He wanted to get close to the edge of the cliff, to stand above theranges of cells facing those they had explored; but it was still toodark, for he knew not what rifts or precipitous places might score thetableland upon which he stood; and the day was coming so slowly, whilehe grew more impatient minute by minute.

  There were moments when he thought it would be unwise to expose himselfon the top, for if there were Indians in the depression looking sharplyabout, according to their nature, he would be showing where they couldstand a better chance of hunting him down in the full light of day. Butif they did attempt such a thing he began wondering whether it would bepossible to lead them a long chase, gradually working round till hecould make a dash for the gulch and so join his friends.

  He could not help feeling that there was little likelihood of this, andthen his attention was taken up by the strengthening of the light awayto his right, and he started with surprise to see that, from a differentpoint of view of course, he could look upon the very spot where Wiltonhad caught sight of the Indians gazing down into the valley beforedrawing back and taking evidently a long round to reach the narrowravine which had afforded him an outlet of escape.

  It was growing light now fast, as he stood holding his pony's rein, andhe began to follow the track that the Indians must have taken from thehead of the depression, now full in view, bearing round to his rightuntil they reached the ravine up which he had come. He tried to makeout where that might be, but it was darker there, and for some time,eager as he was to locate the spot for reasons connected with using itagain as a means of escape, though in a reverse way, it was some timebefore he could make out where the gradual descent from the tablelandbegan.

  But the reason was very simple. It was dim there, the eastern light nottouching that part, and for another reason he was not looking far enoughaway from the edge of the cliffs by about a couple of miles. But as theday broadened the way of escape was revealed in a manner which took hisbreath away, for there, clearly seen in the pale morning light, was thehead of a long line of mounted men, the first half-dozen in full view,the others diminishing in height slowly as they ascended the slope,three-quarters, half, a quarter length, so that the last man's headalone was visible, and growing slowly as it seemed to be rising from theearth.


  "After us, old chap," cried Chris bitterly, to his pony. "Now then, areyou rested? It's going to be another ride for life.

  "Which way?" he almost groaned, the next moment, as he looked wildlyround. "Oh, why did we come to hunt for this wretched gold?"