The Cave in the Mountain<br />A Sequel to In the Pecos Country by Edward Sylvester Ellis (best english novels for beginners .TXT) 📖

all the way through; they came down on us a little while afterward.”

“That war accident,” said Sut. “the purest kind of accident—one of them things that is like to happen, and which we don’t look for—a kinder of surprise like.”

“As me father obsarved when he found we had twins in the family,” interrupted Mickey.

“The chances are ten to one that thing couldn’t happen ag’in; but luck, just then, war t’other way. Lone Wolf and his men war on their way home, and had no more idea of meeting yer folks than he had of axing me to come down and act as bridesmaid for his darter, when she gits married.”

“Do ye s’pose he knowed us, Soot?” asked the Irishman.

“It isn’t likely that he did at first, but the sight of the younker must have made him ’spicious, and arter he rammed you into the rocks, I guess he knowed pretty well how things stood, and he war bound to have both of yer.”

“What made him want me so bad?” asked Fred. “I never understood how that was.”

The tall scout, standing on the edge of the broad, deep ravine, looked down at the handsome face of the boy, to whom he felt attracted by a stronger affection than either he or the Irishman suspected.

“Bless your soul, my younker, that ere Lone Wolf that they call such a great chief (and I may as well own up and say that he is), is heavy on ransoms and he ain’t the only chief that’s in that line. That skunk runs off with men, women and boys, and his rule is not to give ’em up ag’in till he gits a good round price. He calculated on making a good thing off you, and I rather think he would.”

“Does he always give up those, then, that their friends want to ransom?”

“Not by any means; it’s altogether as the notion takes him. He sports more skulps and topknots than any of his brother-chiefs, and he never lets his stock run low. As them other varmints creep up onto him, he shoots ahead by scooping in more topknots, and thar’s no use of thar trying to butt ag’in him. He’s ’way ahead of ’em, and there he’s bound to stay, and they can’t help it.”

“Then he might have used me the same way, after all the pains he took to get me.”

“Jest as like as not. He is as ugly as the devil himself. Two years ago he stole a good-looking gal up near Santa Fe. He had a chance for the biggest kind of ransom; but the poor gal had long, golden hair, and the skunk wanted it for an ornament, and he took it, too, and thinks more of it than any out of his hundred and more. Arter getting yer home among his people, and arter he’d found out thar’s a good show fur a big ransom from yer father, jest as like as not he’d make up his mind that the best thing he could do would be to knock ye on ther head and raise yer ha’r, and he’d do it, too.”

“Well, thank heaven, none of us are in his hands now, and I pray that he may never get us.”

The three were still standing as close to the edge of the ravine as was prudent, so that the moonlight fell about them. They were enabled to see quite a long distance up and down the pass, the uncertain light, however, causing objects to assume a fantastic contour, which would have made an inexperienced person uncertain whether he was looking down upon animate or inanimate objects. They were on the point of moving away, when Fred Munson exclaimed, with some excitement:

“The country seems to be full of camp-fires or signal-fires. Yonder is one just started!”

He pointed up the ravine, and to the other side, where an unusually bright star seemed to be rising over the solitude beyond. It was about a quarter of a mile away, and its brightness such as to show its nature.

“Yes, that’s one of ’em,” said the scout, in a tone which showed that he had no particular interest in it.

“Can ye rade what the same manes?” asked Mickey, who was gradually accumulating a wonderful faith in the woodcraft of the scout.

But the latter laughed. It would have been the height of absurdity for him to have pretended that he could make anything of the meaning of a simple fire burning at night. It was only when actual signals were made that he could tell what they were intended for.

“It’s some of the ’Paches, I s’pose. Lone Wolf is in trouble, but I don’t know as we’ve got anything to do with it. The night is getting along, and we ought to be back to camp by this time.”

Without waiting longer, he turned about and moved back into the wood, followed by his two friends.

It seemed strange to both of the latter that he could have left his mustang so far away from the place where his self-imposed duties had called him to bring to naught the cunning of his great enemy, the principal war-chief of the Apaches. But the truth was, the camps of the scout and the redskins were not so widely separated as Mickey and Fred believed. He had selected the best site possible, and took a roundabout course in going to or from it, as he had more means given him of concealing his trail. There were places where the soil was so rocky and stony that the foot left not the slightest imprint of its passage.

They had gone but a short distance from the ravine when they encountered one of the very stretches so valuable to persons in their predicament. No grass or vegetation of any kind impeded their way, and it was like walking over a hard, uncarpeted floor. Making their way across this, they struck into a wood that was denser than any they had encountered thus far. There their progress was slow, but they continued steadily forward, talking but little, and then in guarded tones. About the hour of midnight the camp of Sut Simpson was reached.

Chapter XXI. Safety and Sleep.

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There was nothing especially noticeable in the site which the scout had selected for his camp fire. His principal object had been secrecy and he had obtained it beyond all peradventure. The place was more like a cavern than anything else, except that it was open at the top, but it was walled in on the four sides, so there was barely room for the three to enter. As the scout explained, he was perfectly familiar with that section of the country, and he lost no time in hunting out the spot. He had his horse with him at the time the Apaches drove Mickey and Fred in among the rocks, and he staid until pretty certain they could keep the Apaches at bay until dark, when he made his way to a level spot inclosed by rocks. There he kindled a fire, cooked some antelope and left his mustang to graze and browse near by, while he returned to the assistance of his friends.

“Where did ye shoot that uncleope, or antelope?” asked Mickey.

“I didn’t shoot him at all; he’s the one you fetched down. Yer left enough for me, so I didn’t run the risk of firing my gun when the varmints were so close by, so I sliced out a hunk or two from the carcass, and fetched it along.”

“Ye haven’t got any of it about ye?”

“Not enough for yer folks—no more than three or four pounds.”

“Be the powers but ye’re right. That’s ’nough to stay our stomach, as me sick aunt remarked after swallowing her twenty-third dumpling.”

At the moment the party walked in among the rocks the smoldering embers of the camp-fire were plainly seen. They needed but a little stirring to break forth into flame again, so as to light up the interior, which was about a dozen feet square, with a height of a dozen feet, more or less. When the Irishman signified that something in the way of food would be acceptable, the scout produced it from among the leaves near at hand, and it was devoured with the heartiest kind of appetite. They had drank all the water they needed, and the three assumed easy, lounging attitudes, Mickey lighting his pipe and enjoying himself immensely.

“This is what I call comfortable,” he remarked, “as me friend Patsey McFadden observed when the row began at the fair and the whacks came from every quarter. I enjoy it; it’s refining, it’s soothing; it makes a man glad that he’s alive.”

“What do you think of it?” asked the scout, turning to Fred, who was reclining upon the heavy Apache blanket, with the appearance of one who was upon the verge of sleep.

“I feel very grateful to you,” said he, rousing up, “and I am more contented than I have been in a long time; but I’m afraid all the time that Lone Wolf or some of his braves might find where we are.”

Sut smiled in a pitying way, as he replied:

“Don’t ye s’pose I’m old ’nough to fix all that? Haven’t I larned ’nough of the ’Paches and thar devilments to keep ’em back? Wall, I rather guess I have.”

As the night remained so warm that no comfort at all was derived from the fire, it was agreed that it should be left to burn out gradually. It had been kindled originally by Sut for the purpose of cooking his meat, and he had renewed it that his friends might see exactly where they were, and, at the same time, look into each other’s faces.

“Let me ax ye,” said Mickey, puffing away at his pipe, “whether, whin we start for home, we’re going to take the pass, which seems as full of the spalpeens as me head is of grand ideas?”

“I can’t be sartin of that,” replied Sut, thoughtfully. “We can strike the prairie by going off here in another course; but it will take a long time, and the road is harder to travel. I like the pass a good deal the best, and unless the varmints seem too thick, we’ll take it.”

“If we could get a good, fair start in the pass, we could kape ahead of ’em all the way till we struck the open prairie, when it would be illigant to sail away and watch them falling behind, like a snail trying to catch a hare.”

The scout pointed to the lad, and, turning his head, Mickey saw that he was sound asleep. The poor fellow was so wearied and worn that he could not resist the approach “tired nature’s sweet restorer,” which carried him off so speedily into the land of dreams.

“I’m glad to obsarve it,” said the Irishman, “for the poor chap needs it. He’s too young to be in this sort of business, but he couldn’t prevint the soorcumstances, and we must help him out of the scrape as best we can.”

“I’m with yer,” responded the scout. “He’s one of the most likely youngsters I’ve ever met, and I’ll risk a good deal to fetch him along. I’m in hopes that we’re purty well out of the woods, though we may have some trouble afore we get cl’ar of Lone Wolf and the rest.”

“As soon as we get the critters to ride, I s’pose we kin be off.”

“That’s all, and that won’t take me long. I’m used to finding horses that the varmints are fools ’nough to say are thars. One day last spring, I war over near the staked plain all alone, when I got cotched in one of them awful nor’easters, and I never came so near freezin’ to death in all my life. Them sort of winds go right to the marrer of yer bones, and it takes yer a week to thaw out. Wall, sir, while I war tryin’ to start a fire, a couple of Comanches managed to slip up and steal my mustang. I didn’t find it out till three or four hours arter, and then I war mad. I couldn’t stand no such loss, so I took the trail, and started off on a deer-trot arter ’em. Wall, sir, I chased them infernal varmints close on to twenty miles afore I run ’em to earth. Then I found ’em down into a deep holler, where I come nigh tumblin’ heels over head right in atween ’em afore I knowed who they war. Yer see it war a piece of the meanest kind of business on thar part, ’cause they each had a mustang, and I hadn’t any, and they war leadin’ mine.

“I laid low for them varmints till night, when I mounted my critter, and struck off over the country leadin’ thar two beasts with me. I expected they’d foller, of course, for the two animals that I captured were such beauties as you don’t meet every day, so I