Two Boys in Wyoming: A Tale of Adventure<br />(Northwest Series, No. 3) by Edward Sylvester Ellis (books to read to be successful txt) 📖

but one interpretation of that expression, and it boded the worst for the missing youth.

"Motoza feels no affection for me, but his hatred of Fred is so intense that he is bent on revenging himself; yet I did not think he would strike so soon."

The afternoon was drawing to a close, and Jack was fully two miles from camp. If he wished to reach their rendezvous before night he had no time to waste. The problem was now in the shape that Hank Hazletine's help was indispensable. If anyone could assist Fred Greenwood, the guide was the man.

"He promised to meet us this evening, and if I wait I shall lose my way."

Accordingly the lad faced in the direction of the plateau and pressed forward with energy. In his haste he kept the former landmarks in view, and his previous experience had given him a certain familiarity with the region which prevented his going astray. Once more he leaped the canyon, without pausing longer than to glance into its depths as he swung over it. He saw nothing of the bulky carcass of the grizzly bear that had fallen a victim to the marksmanship of himself and friend, and just as night was shutting in he reached the edge of the small plateau where the ponies were contentedly grazing.

In one respect better fortune than he anticipated awaited him. Instead of being compelled to pass the intolerable hours in waiting for the coming of the guide, he saw he had already reached the spot. A fire was burning at the mouth of the cavern, and the sinewy figure of the veteran was observed as he moved to and fro before it. Detecting the approach of Jack, he stood erect and silently watched him as he drew near.

A person as agitated as Jack Dudley finds it hard to conceal his feelings. Something in the action and the expression of his white face as he came near enough to be seen distinctly gave the hunter the knowledge that matters had gone amiss with the boy. True to his word, Hank had brought no food back to camp. He had eaten his evening meal before going thither, leaving his young friends to provide for their own wants.

"Where's the younker?" was his question, before Jack halted.

"O Hank! I do not know what has happened; I fear we shall never see Fred again!"

And, unable to restrain his grief that had been pent up so long, Jack broke down and sobbed like a child. The veteran showed a delicacy that would hardly have been expected from him. He knew it would do Jack good to yield to his sorrow for a brief while, for he would soon become cooler and more self-possessed. Accordingly the hunter remained silent until the youth mastered his emotions, when he laid his hand tenderly on his shoulder and said:

"Now, set down here beside me and let me know all about it."

Jack appreciated his consideration, and taking the seat to which he was invited, he told, in a choking voice, the story of the incident beside the little valley, when Fred Greenwood, in high spirits, walked away and vanished as if the earth had opened and swallowed him. Jack did not break down again, for he was resolved to be manly and brave. He would not think of his young friend as wholly lost, nor allow himself to consider the awful possibility of returning home with the message that Fred would never be seen again. Jack felt it was time for action, not for lamentation.

Hazletine was grave and thoughtful, but the youth had hardly finished his narrative when he said:

"You haven't told me all."

"I do not think of anything I have omitted."

"Your story begins with the first sight of the antelope; what happened afore that?"

"A good deal; I did not think you would care to hear it."

"I want every word."

So it was that Jack began with their departure in the morning from camp, and made clear every occurrence down to the start for the valley where the great misfortune overtook them. He realized, while describing the meeting with Motoza, the important bearing that it had upon the disappearance of Fred Greenwood.

When the story was completed the guide emitted a low whistle, followed by an exclamation of so vigorous a character that it startled Jack. Hank sprang excitedly to his feet and strode back and forth until able to control his feelings. Then with a voice and expression of scornful contempt, he asked:

"What do you think of Motoza's love for you and Fred?"

"I admit that you were right and we were wrong about him; I feared for Fred, not for myself, and you see he has not tried to harm me."

"That ain't 'cause he loves you like the brother he calls hisself, but 'cause he hates Fred more'n he does you. If he hadn't had such a good chance to grab the other younker, he would have grabbed you."

"Then you have no doubt that Motoza is the cause of it all?"

"No more doubt than that you're a setting on that stone there."

"I can't understand it; Fred is not the one to let a single Indian make him prisoner, when one is as well armed as the other."

"Who said there was only one of the imps?"

The abrupt question meant a good deal. It had already been proven that a number of other Indians were in the vicinity; but Jack had not thought of associating them with the vagrant Sioux in his hostility to the young hunters, although there was scarcely a doubt that Motoza had had one helper or more in his designs against Fred Greenwood. This put a new face on the matter, and Hazletine discussed the question more freely.

"There must be a half-dozen varmints or so in the mountains; they've sneaked off the reservation and are hunting here without permission from the folks that have 'em in charge. It ain't likely they started out with any other idee than to have a little frolic of their own, meaning to go back when they was through; but, as I remarked afore, when an Injin sees a good chance to raise the mischief with just as good a chance of not being found out, he's pretty sartin to do it. Wal, things took such a queer shape when you younkers and Motoza seen each other that all the ugliness in him has come out, and that's what's urging him now."

"It seems to me, Hank, that if he meant to punish Fred for humiliating him, the method was simple."

"How?"

"By shooting him from ambush; he could do it without being seen, and I can think of no way by which the guilt could be brought home to him."

"You're off there. Motoza knows that you and me are in these parts, and that we're the friends of the younker; what had took place afore, with what I'd swear to, would hang Motoza, and he knows it."

This declaration was not quite clear to Jack, but it sounded as if the guide was willing to so modify his testimony in court as to insure the conviction of the Sioux in case he followed the plan named by the youth.

The veteran would have considered it right, under the circumstances, to do such a thing.

"Since the fear of our testimony restrained him, why did he not seek to remove us in the same manner, when he has had more than one opportunity?"

"And there you're off again. Motoza wouldn't have had any trouble in wiping out two young tenderfeet like you, but he'd likely run agin a snag when he tried it on me!"

The hunter shut his lips and shook his head with eloquent earnestness.

"S'pose he'd done such a thing," he added, angrily; "don't you see that when the Government larned, as it would be sure to larn, that three persons had been killed near the reservation by some of the Injins, there would be the biggest kind of excitement? It would put its best officers at work, and never let up till everything was brought to light. You see that, Motoza not being the only Injin in these parts when the thing was done, the officers would have some of the other varmints to work on, and they'd got the whole story from 'em, which would mean the hanging of the Sioux."

Jack saw the force of his friend's words. Even in this wild region, where one would naturally suppose he was beyond reach of the law, the man who committed a grave crime faced a serious risk. Certainly there was much less danger in "removing" one person than three.

"As it is, Motoza has placed himself in a bad position, but it would have been tenfold worse had he shot you and me."

Hank nodded his head, but qualified his assent:

"He could have picked you off, but not me, and he knows that he would have had me on his trail without waiting for the officers to help."

"But he must face the same thing as it is."

"Don't you see that he had to make the ch'ice atween doing nothing at all or tackling the younker? The Sioux is such an imp and is so crazy for revenge that he made up his mind to chance it the least he could, and he went for the tenderfoot that he hates the most."

Jack tremblingly asked the question that had been in his mind for some minutes.

"Do you think he shot Fred?"

The guide slowly turned his head and looked fixedly at the youth before replying:

"Wouldn't you've heerd his gun?"

The question sent a thrill of hope through the heart of Jack, but it was quickly succeeded by the dull torture that was there before. True, he would have heard the report of a rifle if fired anywhere near him during the afternoon, but a treacherous Sioux like Motoza was too cunning to expose himself in that manner, and would have resorted to a different method.

"He could have slain poor Fred in some other way, but do you believe he has done so?"

"Younker," replied the sympathetic guide, "I ain't the one to trifle with your feelings, fur you don't feel much worse than me, but I own up that I don't know anything more 'bout this bus'ness than you. I mean by that," he hastened to explain, "that I can't figger out in my mind what that varmint has done till I pick up more knowledge than you've been able to give me, and I can't do that afore to-morrow morning."

This sounded reasonable, but it was trying beyond imagination, for it indicated that the long night must be spent in idleness, without the raising of a finger to help the one who perhaps was in the most imminent need of such assistance. There was no help, however, for it, and Jack accepted the decision of his friend without a murmur.

The two sat at the mouth of the cavern, talking in low tones, until the night was well advanced, when Hank said, with a voice that sounded wonderfully low and tender for him:

"Now go in and lay down, younker, fur there'll be plenty of work fur you to do to-morrer, and there's no saying when you'll git the chance to sleep agin."

"Call me when it is my turn to go on guard."

"All right; and don't show yourself till I do call you."

Jack walked into the cavern, first pausing to fling some wood on the fire. Mingled with his feeling of despair was a dread of being alone in the gloom. He did not believe he would sleep a wink through the night, for never were his emotions wrought to a more keenly torturing point. It was almost impossible to remain still, but he forced himself to lie down, with his heavy blanket gathered around him.

It would be distressing to dwell upon the anguish and grief of the youth, as he lay wide awake, his brain alert and his blood at fever-heat. At times it all seemed so like a dream that he turned his head to make sure Fred Greenwood, his loved chum and comrade, was not lying at his side. But no, it was all a dreadful reality, and he groaned in spirit.

As the minutes passed he appeared to grow more wakeful, until he was in as full possession of his faculties as when fleeing from the grizzly bear. And it was while lying thus, wondering what the hour could be, that he became aware that Hank Hazletine was standing at the mouth of the cavern, on the other side of the smouldering fire. The light was reflected so clearly from his bearded face that it was seen distinctly, while the position of Jack, muffled in his blanket, threw his own countenance in shadow, which prevented the guide seeing it clearly.

Something prompted Jack