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

when checked in this peremptory manner. To obey was to take him further from his comrade, but he obeyed.

As he moved off, Motoza picked up the two weapons from the ground, thrusting the revolver into the girdle at his waist, while he carried the Winchester in his other hand. Fred heard him a few paces in the rear, as well as the repetition of his threats to fire on the least attempt of the prisoner to regain his freedom or to attract the attention of his friends.

The youth never doubted that he would carry out this threat, and he would have been a zany to draw the explosion of wrath. He walked forward and did his best to obey the orders of his enemy in spirit and letter.

The young man thought intently. The shock of the belief that instant death impended was somewhat softened by the knowledge that the crisis was deferred for a time at least, though it was impossible to guess for how long.

What was the ultimate intention of the Sioux? It seemed probable to Fred that he was afraid to slay him at the spot of capture, since the body would be sure of discovery by his friends, with a good chance of learning the identity of the assassin. What more likely, therefore, than that he was conducting him to some remote place, where his body would never be found?

It was not natural that an active, sturdy youth like Fred Greenwood should submit to be led thus meekly to slaughter, but in what possible way could he help himself? If he wheeled about to assail the buck he was without a single weapon, while the Sioux was doubly armed. A glance over his shoulder showed his enemy almost within arm's reach.

Not the least trying feature of this extraordinary proceeding was that Fred had to hear the report of Jack Dudley's rifle, followed by his shouts, which plainly reached the ears of the one who dared make no reply. He could only continue walking until the bend in the valley was passed, when a change of direction took place.

It was no longer necessary to conceal themselves from observation, for there was no one to be feared. From the facts that afterward came to light there is little doubt that Tozer and Motoza had held a conference previous to the capture and fixed upon a definite line of procedure, for otherwise it is not conceivable that the Sioux would have spared the life of his captive.

With numerous turnings, and with the sounds of Jack Dudley's shouts and firing faintly reaching his ears, young Greenwood continued marching in front of his captor long after the sun had set and night closed in. He had lost all idea of the points of the compass, but the fact that the tramp continued and that no harm was done him inspired the prisoner with a degree of hope that was altogether lacking at the opening of his strange adventure.

Suddenly a roaring noise struck him, and a short distance further he reached the break in the canyon with which he had become familiar. This enabled him to locate himself, and he looked around to learn the further wishes of his master. From the moment of starting Fred had been on the alert for a chance to make a break for liberty, but none occurred. The Sioux was too vigilant to tempt him.

The long immunity from harm had given the lad a certain self-assurance. As yet he had formed no suspicion of the real purpose of the Sioux, but, somehow or other, he believed his own death was not likely to be attempted for a number of hours to come.

"Well, Motoza, here we are! What's the next step?"

The Indian raised one of the hands grasping a Winchester and pointed toward the canyon.

"Go dere—jump on rock!"

"My gracious! I can't do that!"

"Den me kill!"

As if angered beyond restraint, he made a leap toward the startled youth, who recoiled a step, and, esteeming a death by drowning preferable to the one which threatened him, made haste to reply:

"All right; I'll try it."

But it was necessary that the miscreant should give some instructions to his prisoner. These were simple. He was to leap upon the rock nearest to shore, and then, by the same means, ascend the canyon until ordered to stop. From what has already been related concerning Jack Dudley's experience, it will be seen that the task was difficult and dangerous.

There was no choice, however. He had gained a general knowledge of the canyon and felt almost certain he would be overtaken by accident; but in many respects his experience was so similar to that which was afterward undergone by his comrade that the particulars need not be dwelt upon. He found the work less laborious than he expected. The Sioux by gesture indicated the rocks, when they were not clear to the boy, who found no trouble in making the leaps. In every case he had hardly landed when the buck dropped lightly at his side.

A desperate scheme was half-formed more than once while this singular progress was going on. It was purposely to miss his footing and allow himself to be carried away by the tumultuous torrent. He was restrained by two good reasons. Motoza was likely to seize him before he was swept beyond reach, and if he did not he would inevitably drown. Accordingly, Fred kept at it until finally they reached the ledge up which Hank Hazletine climbed twenty-four hours later.

By this time a suspicion of the partial truth had penetrated the mind of Fred. There must be some cavity in the rocks where his captor meant to hold him for awhile as prisoner. The plan of securing a large ransom in payment for his freedom was not dreamt of by the youth. No one would think of looking in this place for him, and he would be secure for an indefinite period.

Motoza had learned several things from his association with those of Caucasian blood, one of which was that a rubber match-safe is preferable to rubbing two dry sticks together when in need of fire, or using the old-fashioned steel and flint.

He managed with some trouble to make Fred understand he was to climb up the ledge, and he followed so deftly that the prisoner was given no chance to try to prevent him. A minute after they stood side by side, Motoza struck a match, and his captive had a glimpse of the cavern which has already been described.

Here, then, was the end of the journey. This was to be the prison of Fred Greenwood until when? When was he to be released, or was he not to be released at all?

Passing well back in the gloom the two sat down, so far removed from the roar and tumult of the torrent that they could talk without difficulty. Fred was still apprehensive of some sudden violence from the Sioux, and, though in the gloom he could see nothing of him, he was ready to make the best struggle possible.

"Am I to stay here, Motoza?" he asked, raising his voice to a high pitch.

Instead of replying directly, the Indian asked:

"Huh! you fader hab heap money, eh?"

This simple question revealed the whole plot and confirmed the statement already made that the scheme for holding Fred Greenwood for ransom by his relatives was arranged before his abduction took place.

It was a great discovery for Fred Greenwood to make. On the instant nearly all his fears vanished and his heart glowed with hope. This being remembered, he can hardly be blamed for drawing matters with rather a long bow.

"Yes," he made haste to say, "my father has money; a hundred times more than I have," all which was true without involving more than a moderate sum.

"He gib heap money fur you, eh?"

"Of course; I come high."

"He gib thousand—gib ten thousand—hundred thousand—million dollar—eh?"

"Well, that's a pretty good sum; I'm afraid my father wouldn't think I am worth as much as that; but there's no doubt, Motoza, he will pay you a good price; is it your plan to sell me to him?"

The Sioux made no answer to this, though Fred repeated the question. The sullen silence of the Indian brought back the misgivings of the captive. He could not doubt that he had been abducted with a view of being ransomed, but it was impossible to credit Motoza with the whole scheme. He must have allies, and, knowing nothing of Bill Tozer, Fred suspected that a half-dozen vagrant Indians, more or less, were engaged in it, though it seemed singular that no one else had shown himself thus far.

Although the prisoner had been in better spirits than would be suspected, his situation was uncomfortable and he lost hope with the passage of the hours. Motoza refused to hold any further conversation, and was evidently brooding over something of an unpleasant nature. By and by he lit his pipe and silently puffed. He was sitting on the flinty floor, with his back against the side of the cavern and his legs thrust out in front of him.

Now and then, when he drew a little harder on the pipe, the glow in the bowl revealed the tip of his nose, a part of the painted forehead, and the glittering black eyes. It was a gruesome picture, for, even when he was invisible, it seemed to Fred he could see the gleam of those eyes fixed upon him.

"Now, I know he hates me beyond expression," mused the youth, "and nothing would delight him more than to torture me to death. If he agrees to give me my liberty, it will be just like him to kill me as soon as he gets the money which father will gladly pay for my safety."

It will be seen that the trend of Fred's thoughts was similar to those of Hank Hazletine, when considering the same matter. Whatever project might be in the minds of others, the youth would be in danger so long as he was in the power of the wretch whom he had unpardonably insulted.

Naturally, Fred had asked himself more than once whether it was possible for him to make his escape from the cavern. It was out of the question so long as the Sioux was his companion, but if he should leave him alone, even for a short time, the youth was resolved to make the attempt.

These and similar thoughts were chasing one another through his brain when he fell asleep. He was very tired from his long tramp and did not open his eyes until the faint light of morning penetrated his prison. He had not forgotten to wind his watch, and when he looked at it he saw to his astonishment that it was nearly eight o'clock. He had slept for more than ten hours.

The next cause of his surprise was to find he was alone. Motoza had left while he was asleep, though how long previous it was impossible to guess. But the hunger which Fred Greenwood had felt on more than one previous occasion was as naught compared to the ravenous appetite that now had possession of him. It was a long time since he had eaten, and it looked as if it would be a long time before he ate again. There was absolutely nothing in the cavern beside himself. He felt in his pockets in the weak hope of finding a forgotten fish-hook that could be used, though he possessed nothing in the nature of bait; but, inasmuch as he had not brought a hook with him, it would not do to say he succeeded in his search, though he displaced the piece of writing-paper afterward found by his friend.

Forcing all thought of food from him for the time, he asked why, now that his gaoler was absent, he should not pick his way down the canyon and make a break for liberty. At the same time he could not forget that one of the most improbable acts of the Sioux would be to give him any chance at all to escape.

It was more than likely that Motoza had laid the temptation in his way, that it might serve him as a pretext for shooting his prisoner. Fred resolved, therefore, to be careful in all that he did. The necessity of drinking and bathing his face was his excuse for walking out to the border of the ledge and letting himself down to the rock underneath. There he dipped up what water he needed in the palms of his hands, and while doing so scanned every part of the canyon in his field of vision.

He noted the narrow strip of sky far aloft, the tumbling waters above and below where he stood, the black boulders protruding their heads above the torrent which flung itself fiercely against them,