Twice Bought by R. M. Ballantyne (fun books to read for adults .txt) 📖

“Good again, lad. A worthy son of your father. I didn’t give ’e credit for sharpness enough to perceive that. Can you read anything more?”

“One man was a horseman, but he left his horse behind on getting to the rough places of the hills and walked with the rest. He is Paul Bevan’s enemy.”

“And how d’ye know all that?” said Drake, regarding the little fellow with a look of pride.

“By the footprints,” returned Leaping Buck. “He wears boots and spurs.”

“Just so,” returned the trapper, “and we’ve bin told by Paul that Stalker was the only man of his band who wouldn’t fall in wi’ the ways o’ the country, but sticks to the clumsy Jack-boots and spurs of old England. Yes, the scoundrel has followed you up, Tolly, as Paul Bevan said he would, and, havin’ come across Brixton’s track, has gone after him, from all which I now come to the conclusion that your friend Mister Tom is a prisoner, an’ stands in need of our sarvices. What say you, Tolly?”

“Go at ’em at once,” replied the warlike Trevor, “an’ set him free.”

“What! us three attack fifty men?”

“Why not?” responded Tolly, “We’re more than a match for ’em. Paul Bevan has told me oftentimes that honest men are, as a rule, ten times more plucky than dishonest ones. Well, you are one honest man, that’s equal to ten; an’ Buckie and I are two honest boys, equal, say, to five each, that’s ten more, making twenty among three of us. Three times twenty’s sixty, isn’t it? so, surely that’s more than enough to fight fifty.”

“Ah, boy,” answered the trapper, with a slightly puzzled expression, “I never could make nothin’ o’ ’rithmetic, though my mother put me to school one winter with a sort o’ half-mad parson that came to the head waters o’ the Yellowstone river, an’ took to teachin’—dear me, how long ago was it now? Well, I forget, but somehow you seem to add up the figgurs raither faster than I was made to do. Howsever, we’ll go an’ see what’s to be done for Tom Brixton.”

The trapper, who had been leaning on his gun, looking down at his bold little comrades during the foregoing conversation, once more took the lead, and, closely following the trail of the robber-band, continued the ascent of the mountains.

The Indian village was by that time far out of sight behind them, and the scenery in the midst of which they were travelling was marked by more than the average grandeur and ruggedness of the surrounding region.

On their right arose frowning precipices which were fringed and crowned with forests of pine, intermingled with poplar, birch, maple, and other trees. On their left a series of smaller precipices, or terraces, descended to successive levels, like giant steps, till they reached the bottom of the valley up which our adventurers were moving, where a brawling river appeared in the distance like a silver thread. The view both behind and in advance was extremely wild, embracing almost every variety of hill scenery, and in each case was shut in by snow-capped mountains. These, however, were so distant and so soft in texture as to give the impression of clouds rather than solid earth.

Standing on one of the many jutting crags from which could be had a wide view of the vale lying a thousand feet below, Tolly Trevor threw up his arms and waved them to and fro as if in an ecstasy, exclaiming— “Oh, if I had only wings, what a swoop I’d make—down there!”

“Ah, boy, you ain’t the first that’s wished for wings in the like circumstances. But we’ve bin denied these advantages. P’r’aps we’d have made a bad use of ’em. Sartinly we’ve made a bad use o’ sich powers as we do possess. Just think, now, if men could go about through the air as easy as the crows, what a row they’d kick up all over the ’arth! As it is, when we want to fight we’ve got to crawl slowly from place to place, an’ make roads for our wagins, an’ big guns, an’ supplies, to go along with us; but if we’d got wings—why, the first fire eatin’ great man that could lead his fellows by the nose would only have to give the word, when up would start a whole army o’ men, like some thousand Jack-in-the-boxes, an’ away they’d go to some place they’d took a fancy to, an’ down they’d come, all of a heap, quite onexpected—take their enemy by surprise, sweep him off the face o’ the ’arth, and enter into possession.”

“Well, it would be a blue lookout,” remarked Tolly, “if that was to be the way of it. There wouldn’t be many men left in the world before long.”

“That’s true, lad, an’ sitch as was left would be the worst o’ the race. No, on the whole I think we’re better without wings.”

While he was talking to little Trevor, the trapper had been watching the countenance of the Indian boy with unusual interest. At last he turned to him and asked—

“Has Leaping Buck nothin’ to say?”

“When the white trapper speaks, the Indian’s tongue should be silent,” replied the youth.

“A good sentiment and does you credit, lad. But I am silent now. Has Leaping Buck no remark to make on what he sees?”

“He sees the smoke of the robber’s camp far up the heights,” replied the boy, pointing as he spoke.

“Clever lad!” exclaimed the trapper, “I know’d he was his father’s son.”

“Where? I can see nothing,” cried Tolly, who understood the Indian tongue sufficiently to make out the drift of the conversation.

“Of course ye can’t; the smoke is too far off an’ too thin for eyes not well practised in the signs o’ the wilderness. But come; we shall go and pay the robbers a visit; mayhap disturb their rest a little—who knows!”

With a quiet laugh, Mahoghany Drake withdrew from the rocky ledge, and, followed by his eager satellites, continued to wend his way up the rugged mountain-sides, taking care, however, that he did not again expose himself to view, for well did he know that sharp eyes and ears would be on the qui vive that night.