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The Great Sioux Trail: A Story of Mountain and Plain

by Joseph A. Altsheler · English · Gutenberg #28115 · 515,383 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Great Sioux Trail: A Story of Mountain and Plain

Author: Joseph A. Altsheler

Illustrator: Charles L. Wrenn


        
Release date: February 18, 2009 [eBook #28115]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/28115

Credits: Produced by D. Alexander, Barbara Kosker and the Online
        Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
        file was produced from images generously made available
        by The Internet Archive)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREAT SIOUX TRAIL: A STORY OF MOUNTAIN AND PLAIN ***




Produced by D. Alexander, Barbara Kosker and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)











 THE GREAT
 SIOUX TRAIL

 _A STORY OF MOUNTAIN AND PLAIN_

 BY

 JOSEPH A. ALTSHELER

 AUTHOR OF
 "THE RULERS OF THE LAKES,"
 "THE SHADOW OF THE NORTH," ETC.


 [Illustration]


 ILLUSTRATED BY
 CHARLES L. WRENN




 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
 NEW YORK         LONDON
           1918




 Copyright, 1918, by
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

 Printed in the United States of America




 THE GREAT SIOUX TRAIL




 By JOSEPH A. ALTSHELER

 THE CIVIL WAR SERIES

 The Guns of Bull Run
 The Guns of Shiloh
 The Scouts of Stonewall
 The Sword of Antietam
 The Star of Gettysburg
 The Rock of Chickamaugua
 The Shades of the Wilderness
 The Tree of Appomattox


 THE WORLD WAR SERIES

 The Guns of Europe
 The Forest of Swords
 The Hosts of the Air


 THE YOUNG TRAILERS SERIES

 The Young Trailers
 The Forest Runners
 The Keepers of the Trail
 The Eyes of the Woods
 The Free Rangers
 The Riflemen of the Ohio
 The Scouts of the Valley
 The Border Watch


 THE TEXAN SERIES

 The Texan Star
 The Texan Scouts
 The Texan Triumph


 THE FRENCH AND INDIAN WAR SERIES

 The Hunters of the Hills
 The Shadow of the North
 The Rulers of the Lakes


 BOOKS NOT IN SERIES

 The Great Sioux Trail
 Apache Gold
 The Quest of the Four
 The Last of the Chiefs
 In Circling Camps
 A Soldier of Manhattan
 The Sun of Saratoga
 A Herald of the West
 The Wilderness Road
 My Captive

        ----------

 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK




[Illustration: A stroke of a great paw and the rifle was dashed from the
hands of the old chief. [PAGE 288.]]




FOREWORD


"The Great Sioux Trail" is the first of a group of romances concerned
with the opening of the Great West just after the Civil War, and having
a solid historical basis. They will be connected by the presence of
leading characters in all the volumes, but every one will be in itself a
complete story.




 CONTENTS

 CHAPTER                        PAGE

    I THE SIOUX WARNING            1

   II THE NARROW ESCAPE           25

  III THE LITTLE GIANT            53

   IV THE FLIGHT                  84

    V THE WHITE DOME             111

   VI THE OUTLAW                 134

  VII THE BEAVER HUNTER          157

 VIII THE MOUNTAIN RAM           177

   IX THE BUFFALO MARCH          199

    X THE WAR CLUB'S FALL        229

   XI THE YOUNG SLAVE            246

  XII THE CAPTIVE'S RISE         266

 XIII THE REWARD OF MERIT        290

  XIV THE DREADFUL NIGHT         315




 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


 A stroke of a great paw and the rifle was dashed
 from the hands of the old chief                    _Frontispiece_

                                                       FACING PAGE

 The rifle sprang to his shoulder, a jet of flame leaped
 from the muzzle                                            48

 The body of a warrior shot downward, striking on
 the ledges                                                190

 "If he ever looks upon a white face again it will be
 the face of one who is a friend of the Sioux"             256




THE GREAT SIOUX TRAIL




CHAPTER I

THE SIOUX WARNING


The scene cast a singular spell, uncanny and exciting, over young
Clarke. The sweep of plains on one side, and on the other the dim
outline of mountains behind which a blood-red sun was sinking, gave it a
setting at once majestic and full of menace. The horizon, as the
twilight spread over its whole surface, suggested the wilderness, the
unknown and many dangers.

The drama passing before his eyes deepened and intensified his feeling
that he was surrounded by the unusual. The fire burned low, the creeping
dusk reached the edge of the thin forest to the right, and soon, with
the dying of the flames, it would envelop the figures of both Sioux and
soldiers. Will's gaze had roved from one to another, but now it remained
fixed upon the chief, who was speaking with all the fire, passion and
eloquence so often characteristic of the great Indian leaders. He was
too far away to hear the words, as only the officers of the troop were
allowed at the conference, but he knew they were heavy with import, and
the pulses in his temples beat hard and fast.

"Who is the Indian chief?" he said to Boyd, the scout and hunter, who
stood by his side. "He seems to be a man."

"He is," replied Boyd with emphasis. "He's a man, and a great man, too.
That's Red Cloud, the war chief of the Ogalala Sioux, Mahpeyalute, they
call him in their language, one of the bravest warriors that ever lived,
and a thinker, as well. If he'd been born white he'd be governor of a
big state by this time, and later on he might become president of 'em
all."

"I've heard of him. He's one of our most dangerous enemies."

"So he is, Will. It's because he thinks we're going to spread over the
Sioux country--in which he's right--and not because he hates us as men.
I've known him in more peaceful times, and we've done each other good
turns, but under that black hair of his beats a brain that can look far
ahead and plan. He means to close to us the main trail through the Sioux
country, and the Sioux range running halfway across the continent, and
halfway from Canada to Mexico. Mountain and plain alike are theirs."

"I can't keep from having a certain sympathy with him, Jim. It's but
natural that they should want to keep the forests and the great buffalo
ranges."

"I share their feelings, too, though white I am, and to the white people
I belong. I hate to think of the continent ploughed into fields
everywhere, and with a house always in sight. Anyhow, it won't happen in
my time, because in the west here there are so many mountains and the
Sioux and Cheyennes are so warlike that the plough will have a hard time
getting in."

"And the country is so vast, too. But watch Red Cloud. He points to the
west! Now he drops his hand, doubles his fist and stretches his arm
across the way. What does it mean, Jim?"

"It's a gesture telling Captain Kenyon that the road is barred to
soldiers, settlers, hunters, all of us. Far to the south we may still
follow the gold trails to California, but here at the edge of this
mighty wilderness we must turn back. The nations of the Dakota, whom we
call the Sioux, have said so."

Mahpeyalute lowered his arm, which he had thrust as a barrier across the
way, but his fist remained clenched, and raising it he shook it again.
The sun had sunk over the dim mountains in the north and the burning red
there was fading. All the thin forest was clothed now in dusk, and the
figure of the chief himself grew dimmer. Yet the twilight enlarged him
and lent to him new aspects of power and menace. As he made his gesture
of defiance, young Clarke, despite his courage, felt the blood grow
chill in his veins. It seemed at the moment in this dark wilderness that
the great Indian leader had the power to make good his threats and close
the way forever to the white race.

The other Indians, ten in number, stood with their arms folded, and they
neither stirred nor spoke. But they listened with supreme attention to
every word of their redoubtable champion, the great Mahpeyalute. Will
knew that the Sioux were subdivided into nations or tribes, and he
surmised that the silent ones were their leaders, although he knew well
enough that Red Cloud was an Ogalala, and that the Ogalalas were merely
one of the Tetons who, federated with the others, made up the mighty
Sioux nation. But the chief, by the force of courage and intellect, had
raised himself from a minor place to the very headship.

Red Cloud was about fifty years old, and, while at times he wore the
white man's apparel, at least in part, he was now clothed wholly in
Indian attire. A blanket of dark red was looped about his shoulders, and
he carried it with as much grace as a Roman patrician ever wore the
toga. His leggings and moccasins of fine tanned deerskin were decorated
beautifully with beads, and a magnificent war bonnet of feathers,
colored brilliantly, surmounted his thick, black hair.

He was truly a leader of wild and barbaric splendor in surroundings that
fitted him. But it was not his tall, powerful figure nor his dress that
held Will's gaze. It was his strong face, fierce, proud and menacing,
like the sculptured relief of some old Assyrian king, and in very truth,
with high cheek bones and broad brow, he might have been the
reincarnation of some old Asiatic conqueror.

The young officer seemed nervous and doubtful. He switched the tops of
his riding boots with a small whip, and then looked into the fierce eyes
of the chief, as if to see that he really meant what he said. Kenyon was
fresh from the battlefields of the great civil war, where he had been
mentioned specially in orders more than once for courage and
intelligence, but here he felt himself in the presence of an alarming
puzzle. His mission was to be both diplomat and warrior. He was not sure
where the duties of diplomat ceased and those of warrior began.

Meanwhile his protagonist, the Indian chief, had no doubt at all about
his own intentions and was stating them with a clearness that could not
be mistaken. Captain Kenyon continued to switch his boot uneasily and to
take a nervous step back and forth, his figure outlined against the
fire. Young Clarke felt a certain sympathy for him, placed without
experience in a situation so delicate and so full of peril.

The Ogalala stopped talking and looked straight at the officer, standing
erect and waiting, as if he expected a quick answer, and only the kind
of answer, too, that he wished. Meanwhile there was silence, save for an
occasional crackle of burning wood.

Both young Clarke and the hunter, Boyd, felt with all the intensity of
conviction that it was a moment charged with fate. The white people had
come from the Atlantic to the great plains, but the mighty Sioux nation
now barred the way to the whole Northwest, it was not a barrier to be
passed easily. Will, as he said, understood, too, the feelings of
Mahpeyalute. Had he been an Ogalala like the chief he would have felt
as the Ogalala felt. Yet, whatever happened, he and Boyd meant to go on,
because they had a mission that was calling them all the time.

The Captain at last said a few words, and Red Cloud, who had been
motionless while he waited, took from under his blanket a pipe with a
long curved stem. Will was surprised. He knew something of Indian
custom, but he had not thought that the fierce Ogalala chief would
propose to smoke a pipe of peace at a time like the present. Nor was any
such thought in the mind of Red Cloud. Instead, he suddenly struck the
stem of the pipe across the trunk of a sapling, breaking it in two, and
as the bowl fell upon the ground he put his foot upon it, shattering it.
Then, raising his hand in a salute to Captain Kenyon, he turned upon his
heel and walked away, all the other Indians following him without a
word. At the edge of the thin forest they mounted their ponies and rode
out of sight in the darkness.

Captain Kenyon stood by the fire, gazing thoughtfully into the dying
coals, while the troopers, directed by the sergeants, were spreading the
blankets for the night. Toward the north, where the foothills showed
dimly, a wolf howled. The lone, sinister note seemed to arouse the
officer, who gave some orders to the men and then turned to meet the
hunter and the lad.

"I've no doubt you surmised what the Indian meant," he said to Boyd.

"I fancy he was telling you all the trails through the Northwest were
closed to the white people," said the hunter.

"Yes, that was it, and his warning applied to hunters, scouts and
gold-seekers as well as settlers. He told me that the Sioux would not
have their hunting grounds invaded, and the buffalo herds on which they
live destroyed."

"What he told you, Captain, is in the heart of every warrior of their
nation. The Northern Cheyennes, a numerous and warlike tribe, feel the
same way, also. The army detachments are too few and too scattered to
hold back the white people, and a great and terrible war is coming."

"At least," said Captain Kenyon, "I must do my duty as far as I may. I
can't permit you and your young friend, Mr. Clarke, to go into the Sioux
country. The Indian chief, Red Cloud, showed himself to be a fierce and
resolute man and you would soon lose your lives."

Will's face fell, but the hunter merely shrugged his great shoulders.

"But you'll permit us to pass the night in your camp, Captain?" he said.

"Of course. Gladly. You're welcome to what we have. I'd not drive
anybody away from company and fire."

"We thank you, Captain Kenyon," said Will warmly. "It's a genuine
pleasure to us to be the guests of the army when we're surrounded by
such a wilderness."

Their horses were tethered nearby with those of the troop, and securing
their blankets from their packs they spread them on dead leaves near the
fire.

"You'll take breakfast with us in the morning," said Captain Kenyon
hospitably, "and then I'll decide which way to go, and what task we're
to undertake. I wish you'd join us as scout, hunter and guide, Mr. Boyd.
We need wisdom like yours, and Mr. Clarke could help us, too."

"I've been independent too long," replied the hunter lightly. "I've
wandered mountain and plain so many years at my own free will that I
couldn't let myself be bound now by military rules. But I thank you for
the compliment, just the same, Captain Kenyon."

He and Will Clarke lay down side by side with their feet to the fire,
their blankets folded about them rather closely, as the air, when the
night advanced and the coals died completely, was sure to grow cold.
Will was troubled, as he was extremely anxious to go on at once, but he
reflected that Jim Boyd was one of the greatest of all frontiersmen and
he would be almost sure to find a way. Summoning his will, he dismissed
anxiety from his mind and lay quite still, seeking sleep.

The camp was now quiet and the fire was sinking rapidly. Sentinels
walked on every side, but Will could not see them from where he lay. A
light wind blowing down from the mountains moaned through the thin
forest. Clouds came up from the west, blotting out the horizon and
making the sky a curving dome of blackness. Young William Clarke felt
that it was good to have comrades in the immense desolation, and it
strengthened his spirit to see the soldiers rolled in their blankets,
their feet to the dying coals.

Yet his trouble about the future came back. He and Boyd were in truth
and reality prisoners. Captain Kenyon was friendly and kind, but he
would not let them go on, because the Sioux and Cheyennes had barred all
the trails and the formidable Red Cloud had given a warning that could
not be ignored. Making another effort, he dismissed the thought a second
time and just as the last coals were fading into the common blackness he
fell asleep.

He was awakened late in the night by a hand pushing gently but
insistently against his shoulder. He was about to sit up abruptly, but
the voice of Boyd whispered in his ear:

"Be very careful! Make no noise! Release yourself from your blanket and
then do what I say!"

The hand fell away from his shoulder, and, moving his head a little,
Clarke looked carefully over the camp. The coals where the fire had been
were cold and dead, and no light shone there. The figures of the
sleeping soldiers were dim in the dusk, but evidently they slept
soundly, as not one of them stirred. He heard the regular breathing of
those nearest to him, and the light step of the sentinel just beyond a
clump of dwarf pines.

"Sit up now," whispered Boyd, "and when the sentinel passes a little
farther away we'll creep from the camp. Be sure you don't step on a
stick or trip over anything. Keep close behind me. The night's as black
as pitch, and it's our one chance to escape from friends who are too
hospitable."

Will saw the hunter slowly rise to a stooping position, and he did
likewise. Then when the sound of the sentinel's step was lost at the far
end of his beat, Boyd walked swiftly away from the camp and Will
followed on his trail. The lad glanced back once, and saw that the dim
figures by the dead fire did not stir. Weary and with the soothing wind
blowing over them, they slept heavily. It was evident that the two who
would go their own way had nothing to fear from them. There was now no
bar to their departure, save the unhappy chance of being seen by the
sentinel.

A rod from the camp and Boyd lay flat upon the ground, Will, without the
need of instruction, imitating him at once. The sentinel was coming
back, but like his commander he was a soldier of the civil war, used to
open battlefields, and he did not see the two shadows in the dusk. He
reached the end of his beat and turning went back again, disappearing
once more beyond the stunted pines.

"Now's our time," whispered Boyd, and rising he walked away swiftly but
silently, Will close behind him. Three hundred yards, and they stopped
by the trunk of a mountain oak.

"We're clear of the soldiers now," said the hunter, "but we must have
our horses. Without 'em and the supplies they carry we'd be lost. I
don't mean anything against you, Will. You're a likely lad and you learn
as fast as the best of 'em, but it's for me to cut out the horses and
bring 'em here. Do you think you can wait patiently at this place till I
come with 'em?"

"No, Jim, I can't wait patiently, but I can wait impatiently. I'll make
myself keep still."

"That's good enough. On occasion I can be as good a horse thief as the
best Sioux or Crow or Cheyenne that ever lived, only it's our own horses
that I'm going to steal. They've a guard, of course, but I'll slip past
him. Now use all your patience, Will."

"I will," said the lad, as he leaned against the trunk of the oak. Then
he became suddenly aware that he no longer either saw or heard Boyd. The
hunter had vanished as completely and as silently as if he had melted
into the air, but Will knew that he was going toward the thin forest,
where the horses grazed or rested at the end of their lariats.

All at once he felt terribly alone. He heard nothing now but the moaning
of the wind that came down from the far mountains. The camp was gone,
Boyd was gone, the horses were invisible, and he was the only human
being in the gigantic and unknown Northwest. The air felt distinctly
colder and he shivered a little. It was not fear, it was merely the
feeling that he was cut off from the race like a shipwrecked sailor on a
desert island. He took himself metaphorically by the shoulders and gave
his body a good shake. Boyd would be coming back soon with the horses,
and then he would have the best of comradeship.

But the hunter was a long time in returning, a half hour that seemed to
Will a full two hours, but at last, when he had almost given him up, he
heard a tread approaching. He had experience enough to know that the
sound was made by hoofs, and that Boyd was successful. He realized now,
so great was his confidence in the hunter's skill, that failure had not
entered his mind.

The sound came nearer, and it was made by more than one horse. Then the
figure of the hunter appeared in the darkness and behind him came four
horses, the two that they rode, and the extra animals for the packs.

"Splendidly done!" exclaimed the lad. "But I knew you could do it!"

"It was about as delicate a job as I ever handled," said Boyd, with a
certain amount of pride in his tone, "but by waiting until I had a good
chance I was able to cut 'em out. It was patience that did it. I tell
you, lad, patience is about the greatest quality a man can have. It's
the best of all winners."

"I suppose that's the reason, Jim, it's so hard to exercise it at times.
Although I had nothing to do and took none of the risk, it seemed to me
you were gone several hours."

Boyd laughed a little.

"It proves what I told you," he said, "but we want to get away from here
as quick as we can now. You lead two of the horses, I'll lead the other
two, and we won't mount for a while yet. I don't think they can hear us
at the camp, but we won't give 'em a chance to do so if we can help it."

He trod a course straight into the west, the ground, fortunately, being
soft and the hoofs of the horses making but little sound. Although the
darkness hung as thick and close as ever, the skillful woodsman found
the way instinctively, and neither stumbled nor trod upon the fallen
brushwood. Young Clarke, just behind him, followed in his tracks, also
stepping lightly and he knew enough not to ask any questions, confident
that Boyd would take them wherever they wished to go.

It was a full two hours before the hunter stopped and then they stood on
a low hill covered but thinly with the dwarfed trees of that region. The
night was lightening a little, a pallid moon and sparse stars creeping
out in the heavens. By the faint light young Clarke saw only a wild and
rugged country, low hills about them and in the north the blur that he
knew to be mountains.

"We can stand up straight now and talk in our natural voices," said
Boyd, in a clear, full tone, "and right glad I am, too. I hate to steal
away from friends, as if you were running from the law. That Captain
Kenyon is a fine fellow, though he and his men don't know much about
this wild country."

"Isn't this about the same direction that Red Cloud and his warriors
took?" asked Will.

"Not far from it, but we won't run into 'em. They're miles and miles
ahead. There's a big Sioux village two or three days' journey farther
on, and it's a certainty that their ponies are headed straight for it."

"And we won't keep going for the same village?"

The big hunter laughed infectiously.

"Not if we know what is good for us," he replied, "and we think we do.
Our trail leads far to the north of the Sioux town, and, when we start
again, we'll make an abrupt change in our course. There's enough
moonlight now for you to see the face of your watch, and tell me the
time, Will."

"Half-past one, Jim."

"And four or five hours until morning. We'll move on again. There's a
chance that some pursuing soldier might find us here, one chance in a
thousand, so to speak, but slim as it is it is well to guard against it.
Mount your horse. There's no reason now why we shouldn't ride."

Will sprang gladly into the saddle, leading his pack-animal by the
lariat, and once more followed Boyd, who rode down the hill into a wide
and shallow valley, containing a scattered forest of good growth. Boyd's
horse raised his head suddenly and neighed.

"What does that mean?" asked Will, startled. "Sioux?"

"No," replied the hunter. "I know this good and faithful brute so well
that he and I can almost talk together. I've learned the meaning of
every neigh he utters and the one you have just heard indicates that he
has smelled water. In this part of the world water is something that you
must have on your mind most of the time, and his announcement is
welcome."

"If there's a stream, do we camp by it?"

"We certainly do. We won't turn aside from the luck that fortune puts in
our way. We're absolutely safe from the soldiers now. They can't trail
us in the night, and we've come many miles."

They descended a long slope and came into the valley, finding the grass
there abundant, and, flowing down the centre, a fine brook of clear cold
water, from which horses and horsemen drank eagerly. Then they unsaddled
and prepared for rest and food.

"Is there no danger here from the Sioux?" asked Will.

"I think not," replied the hunter. "I've failed to find a pony track,
and I'm quite sure I saw a buck among the trees over there. If the
Indians had passed this way there would have been no deer to meet our
eyes, and you and I, Will, my lad, will take without fear the rest we
need so much."

"I see that the brook widens and deepens into a pool a little farther
on, and as I'm caked with dust and dirt I think I'll take a bath."

"Go ahead. I've never heard that a man was less brave or less enduring
because he liked to keep clean. You'll feel a lot better when it's
done."

Will took off his clothes and sprang into the pool which had a fine,
sandy bottom. The chill at once struck into his marrow. He had not
dreamed that it was so cold. The hunter laughed when he saw him
shivering.

"That water comes down from the high mountains," he said, "and a few
degrees more of cold would turn it into ice. But splash, Will! Splash!
and you'll feel fine!"

Young Clarke obeyed and leaped and splashed with great energy, until his
circulation grew vigorous and warm. When he emerged upon the bank his
whole body was glowing and he felt a wonderful exhilaration, both
physical and mental. He ran up and down the bank until he was dry, and
then resumed his clothing.

"You look so happy now that I'll try it myself," said Boyd, and he was
soon in the water, puffing and blowing like a big boy. When he had
resumed his deerskins it was almost day. A faint line of silver showed
in the east, and above them the sky was gray with the coming dawn.

"I'll light a little fire and make coffee," said Boyd, "but the rest of
the breakfast must be cold. Still, a cup of coffee on a chill morning
puts life into a man."

Will, with the zeal characteristic of him, was already gathering dead
brushwood, and Boyd soon boiled the grateful brown liquid, of which they
drank not one cup but two each, helping out the breakfast with crackers
and strips of dried beef. Then the pot and the cups were returned to the
packs and the hunter carefully put out the fire.

"It's a good thing we loaded those horses well," he said, "because we'll
need everything we have. Now you roll up in your blanket, Will, and get
the rest of your sleep."

"And you feel sure there is no danger? I don't want to leave all the
responsibility to you. I'd like to do what I can."

"Don't bother yourself about it. The range of the Sioux is farther west
mostly, and it's not likely we could find a better place than this for
our own little private camp."

The coming of a bright, crisp day removed from Will the feeling of
desolation that the wilderness had created in his mind. Apprehension and
loneliness disappeared with the blackness of the night. He was with one
of the best scouts and hunters in the West, and the sun was rising upon
a valley of uncommon beauty. All about him the trees grew tall and
large, without undergrowth, the effect being that of a great park, with
grass thick and green, upon which the horses were grazing in deep
content. The waters of the brook sang a little song as they hurried over
the gravel, and the note of everything was so strongly of peace that the
lad, wearied by their flight and mental strain, fell asleep in a few
minutes.

It was full noon when he awoke, and, somewhat ashamed of himself, he
sprang up, ready to apologize, but the hunter waved a deprecatory hand.

"You didn't rest too long," said Boyd. "You needed it. As for me, I'm
seasoned and hard, adapted by years of practice to the life I lead. It's
nothing to me to pass a night without sleep, and to catch up later on.
While you were lying there in your blanket I scouted the valley
thoroughly, leaving the horses to watch over you. It's about two miles
long and a mile broad. At the lower end the brook flows into a narrow
chasm."

"What did you find in the valley itself, Jim?"

"Track of bear, deer, wolf and panther, but no sign of human being,
white or red. It's certain that we're the only people in it, but if we
need game we can find it. It's a good sign, showing that this part of
the country has not been hunted over by the Indians."

"Before long we'll have to replenish our food supply with game."

"Yes, that's certain. We want to draw as little on our flour and coffee
as we can. We can do without 'em, but when you don't have 'em you miss
'em terribly."

The stores had been heaped at the foot of a tree, while the pack horses,
selected for their size and strength, nibbled at the rich grass. Will
contemplated the little mound of supplies with much satisfaction. They
had not started upon the path of peril without due preparation.

Each carried a breech-loading, repeating rifle of the very latest make,
a weapon yet but little known on the border. In the packs were two more
rifles of the same kind, two double-barreled, breech-loading shotguns,
thousands of cartridges, several revolvers, two strong axes, medicines,
extra blankets, and, in truth, everything needed by a little army of two
on the march. Boyd, a man of vast experience in the wilderness, had
selected the outfit and he was proud of its completeness.

"Don't you think, Jim," said young Clarke, "that you might take a little
sleep this afternoon? You've just said that we've nothing to dread in
the valley, and I can watch while you build yourself up."

Boyd gave him a quick but keen glance. He saw that the lad's pride was
at stake, and that he was anxious to be trusted with an important task.
Looking at his alert face, and knowing his active intellect, the hunter
knew that he would learn swiftly the ways of the wilderness.

"A good idea," he said in tones seemingly careless. "I'll change my mind
and take a nap. Wake me up if you see strange signs or think anything is
going to happen."

Without further word he spread his blanket on the leaves and in a minute
or two was off to slumberland. Will, full of pride, put his fine
breech-loader over his shoulder and began his watch. The horses, having
eaten their fill, were lying down in the grass, and his own nuzzled his
hand as he stroked their noses.

He walked some distance among the trees, and he was impressed more and
more by the resemblance of the valley to a great park, a park hitherto
untrodden by man. Although he was not lonely or depressed now he felt
very remote from civilization. The cities of the East, so far as his
mind was concerned, were now on the other side of the world. The
unknown, vast and interminable, had closed about him.

Yet he felt a momentary exultation. Boyd and he would find a path
through every peril. His walk brought him back to the edge of the brook,
where for a little space thick bushes grew, and he heard a snarling
growl, followed by a rush that could be made only by a heavy body. He
started violently, the pulses beat hard in his temples and he promptly
presented his rifle. Then he laughed at himself. He caught a glimpse of
a long, yellowish body and he knew it was a mountain lion, much more
alarmed than he, and fleeing with all speed to the hills.

He must be steadier of nerve and he gave himself a stern rebuke. Farther
down the valley the brook widened again into a deep pool, and in the
water, as clear as silver, he saw fine mountain trout, darting here and
there. If they stayed a day or two in the valley he would come and catch
several of the big fellows, as they were well provided with fishing
tackle, which Boyd said would be a great resource, saving much
ammunition.

He went farther, and then climbed the hill which enclosed the valley on
that side, obtaining from its crest a northern view of rolling plains,
with the dim blue outline of the high mountains far beyond. He surmised
that the group of hills in which they now lay was of limited area, and
that when they continued their journey they must take once more to the
plains, where they would be exposed to the view of roving Sioux. His
heart throbbed as he looked over that great open expanse, and realized
anew the danger. The pocket in the hills in which they lay was surely a
safe and comfortable place, and one need be in no hurry to abandon it.

When he went back to the camp Boyd was just awakening, and as he looked
at Will his eyes twinkled.

"Well, what did you find?" he asked. "Anything besides tracks of
animals?"

"I found an animal himself," replied the lad. "I scared him up in the
bushes at the brook's edge. It was a mountain lion and he ran away, just
as I felt like doing at first."

The hunter laughed with genuine pleasure.

"I'm glad you kept down the feeling and didn't run," he said. "You'll
get over such tremors in time. Everybody feels 'em, no matter how brave,
unless he has a lot of experience. Now, since you've been scouting
about, what do you think we ought to do?"

"I looked from a hill and saw open plains, extending maybe forty or
fifty miles. Red Cloud and his men may have gone that way and I'm in
favor of giving 'em a good start. Suppose we stay here another night and
day and let 'em reach the mountains."

"Seems a good plan to me."

"Besides, there's some fish in a pool farther down that I want to
catch."

"That settles it. We stay. Everything else must stand aside when a real
fisherman wants to show what he can do."

Will took the fishing tackle from his pack, and returned in a short time
with three splendid trout. It was now nearly sunset and Boyd thought it
safe to build a fire after dark and cook the catch.

"I think there's no doubt that Red Cloud and his warriors are now a full
day's journey ahead," he said, "but, as a wandering Indian might come
into the valley, we'll take no more chances than we can help."

A low fire of dead sticks was lighted in a gulch, well screened by
bushes, and the fish were broiled, proving very welcome, as they were
the first warm food Will and Boyd had tasted since their flight from the
troops. The hunter made coffee again, and they were well satisfied with
their supper.

"It's a good idea to help ourselves out with as much fish and game as we
can," he said, "and it's likely that we can find plenty of it up here.
The horses, too, have had all the grass they want and we'll tether 'em
for the night, though there's not one chance in a thousand that they'll
wander from the valley. Animals have instinct, and if there's no
powerful enemy near they always stay where food and water are to be had.
I tell you what, Will, if a man could only have all his own senses
coupled with those of a deer or a wolf, what a mighty scout and hunter
he could be. Suppose you could smell a trail like a wolf, and then think
about it like a man! Maybe men did have those powers a hundred thousand
years ago."

"Maybe they did, Jim, but they didn't have rifles and all the modern
weapons and tools that help us so much."

"You're right, Will. You can't have everything, all at the same time,
and just now you and me are not so bad off, lying here comfortable and
easy in our own particular valley, having just finished some fine trout
that would have cost us four or five dollars in a fine New York
restaurant, but for which we paid nothing."

"You don't have any fear that the troops will come after us and make us
go back?"

"You can clear your mind of that trouble and keep it cleared. We're in
the Indian country, and Captain Kenyon has orders to make no invasion.
So he can't pursue. Missing us he'll just have to give us up as a bad
job."

"Then we'll have only the Indians to guard against, and your opinion,
Jim, that they're far ahead, seems mighty good to me. Perhaps we ought
to stay three or four days here."

The hunter laughed.

"I see you're falling in love with the valley," he said, "but maybe
you're right. It will depend on circumstances. To-morrow we'll get out
those big field glasses of yours, go to the highest hill, and examine
all the country."

"Suppose it should rain, Jim. Then we wouldn't think so much of our fine
valley."

"Right you are, Will. But lucky for us, it doesn't rain much up here at
this time of the year, and we can call ourselves safe on that score.
Full night is at hand, and there isn't a cloud in the heavens. We'll
both sleep, and build up our nerves and strength."

"Don't we need to keep a watch?"

"Not now, I think, at least not either of our two selves. That horse of
mine, that I ride, Selim, is a sentinel of the first class. He's been
with me so much and I've trained him so long that he's sure to give an
alarm if anything alarming comes, though he'll pay no attention to small
game, or even to a deer."

Selim was at the end of a long lariat about fifty feet away, and having
eaten for a long time and having rested fully he had taken position as
if he realized thoroughly his duties as watcher of the little camp. He
was a powerful bay with brilliant, alert eyes that young Clarke saw
shining through the dusk, and he walked slowly back and forth within the
range allowed by his tether.

"Didn't I tell you?" said Boyd, with delight. "Look at him now, taking
up his duties as a man. That horse can do everything but talk, and for
that reason, while he does many wise things, he never says a foolish
one. Doesn't he fill you chock full of confidence, Will?"

"He certainly does, Jim. I know he'll be a much better sentinel than I
could make of myself. I'll go to sleep, sure that we'll be well
protected."

Although the hunter found sleep soon, Will, who did not need it so
badly, lay awake long and he was interested in watching Selim, who was
justifying his master's praise. The horse, for all the world like a
vigilant sentinel, walked back and forth, and whenever his head was
turned toward the little camp the lad saw the great eyes shining.

"Good Selim!" he said to himself. "Good and watchful Selim!"

In all the immensity and loneliness of the wilderness he felt himself
drawn to the animals, at least to those that were not beasts of prey. It
was true not only of Selim but of the other horses that they could do
everything but talk, and they were the best friends of Boyd and himself.

His trust in the sentinel now absolute, he followed Boyd into peaceful
oblivion, and he did not come out of it until dawn.




CHAPTER II

THE NARROW ESCAPE


When he awoke a sun of great brilliancy was shining, and over him arched
the high skies of the great west. The air was thin and cool, easy to
breathe and uplifting, and in the bracing morning he did not feel the
loneliness and immensity of the wilderness. Boyd had already built a
little fire among the bushes, and was warming some strips of dried beef
over the flames.

"Here's your breakfast, Will," he said. "Beef, a few crackers, and
water. Coffee would taste mighty good, but we can't afford to be taking
it every morning, or we'd soon use up all we have. This is one of the
mornings we skip it."

"I can stand it if you can," said Will cheerfully, "and it seems to me
we ought to be saving our other stores, too. You'll have to kill a deer
or a buffalo soon, Jim."

"Not until we leave the valley. Now fall on, and when we finish the beef
we'll take another look at that map of yours."

They ate quickly and when they were done Will produced from an inside
pocket of his waistcoat, where he always carried it, the map which was
his most precious possession. It was on parchment, with all the lines
very distinct, and the two bent over it and studied it, as they had done
so often before.

It showed the Mississippi, flowing almost due south from Minnesota, and
the Missouri, which was in reality the upper Mississippi, thrusting its
mighty arm far out into the unknown wilderness of the Northwest. It
showed its formation by the meeting of the Jefferson, the Madison and
the Gallatin, but these three rivers themselves were indicated by vague
and faint traces. Extensive dark spaces meant high mountains.

"My father served in the northwest before the great Civil War," said
Will, telling it for the fiftieth time, "and he was a man of inquiring
mind. If he was in a country he always wished to know all about it that
was to be known, particularly if it happened to be a wild region. He had
the mind of a geographer and explorer, and the vast plains and huge
mountains up here fascinated him. If there was a chance to make a great
journey to treat with the Indians or to fight them he always took it."

"And he'd been in California in '49," said Boyd, saying, like Will, what
he had said fifty times before. "It was there I first met him, and a
fine, upstanding young officer he was."

The lad sighed, and for a moment or two his sorrow was so deep that it
gave him an actual thrill of physical pain.

"That's so, Jim. I've often heard him speak of the first time he saw
you," he resumed. "He was tempted to resign and hunt gold in California
with the crowd, and he did have some experience in the mines and
workings there, but he concluded, at last, to remain in the army, and
was finally sent into the Northwest with his command to deal with the
Indians."

"And it was on the longest of his journeys into the mountains that he
found it!"

"Yes. He noticed in a wild place among the ridges that the earth and
rock formations were like those of California where the richest gold
finds were made. He was alone at the time, though the rest of his
command was only a few miles away, but he picked among the rocks and saw
enough to prove that it was a mother lode, a great gold seam that would
make many men millionaires. It was his intention to resign from the
army, get permission from the Sioux to come in, organize a company, and
work what he meant to be the Clarke mine. But you know what happened,
Jim."

"Aye, Will, I do. By the time he got back to civilization the Civil War
broke like a storm, and he went east to fight for his country."

"He could do no less, and he never thought of doing anything else.
Bearing in mind the risks of war, he drew this map which he carried on
his person and which when he was dying he sent by you to me."

"Aye, Will, he died in my arms at the Wilderness before the Bloody
Angle. It was a glorious death. He was one of the bravest men I ever
saw. He gave me the map, told me to be sure to reach you when the war
was over, and then help you to find the great mine."

Water came again into Will's eyes. Though the wounds of youth heal fast,
the hurt made by the death of his heroic father had not yet healed. The
hunter respected his emotion and was silent while he waited.

"If we find the great mother lode and take out the treasure, part of it
is to be yours, of course," said the boy.

"You can pay me for my work and let it go at that. Your father found the
lode and the map telling the way to it, drawn by him, is yours now."

"But we are partners. I could never get through these mountains and past
the Indian tribes without you. We're partners and there'll be plenty for
all, if we ever get it. Say right now, Jim, that you share and share
alike with me, or I won't be easy in my mind."

"Well, then, if you will have it that way. I suppose from all your brave
father, the Captain, said, there's so much of it we needn't trouble
ourselves about the shares if we ever get there. It would be better if
we had another trusty friend or two."

"Maybe we'll pick 'em up before we're through with this job, which is
going to last a long time. I think we're still on the right trail, Jim.
This line leads straight west by north from the Mississippi river far
into western Montana, where it strikes a narrow but deep mountain
stream, which it crosses. Then it goes over a ridge, leads by a lake
which must be several miles long, goes over another ridge, crosses
another stream, and then winding many ways, as if penetrating a maze,
comes to a creek, with high mountains rising on either side of it. But
the mine is there, Jim, and we've got to follow all these lines, if we
ever reach it."

"We'll follow 'em, Will, don't you worry about that. Gold draws men
anywhere. Through blizzards, over mountains, across deserts, right into
the face of the warlike Indian tribes, and the danger of death can't
break the spell. Haven't I seen 'em going to California, men, women and
children pressing on in the face of every peril that any army ever
faced, and it's not likely, Will, that you and me will turn back, when
women and children wouldn't."

"No, Jim, we couldn't do that. We're in this hunt to stay, and I for one
have the best of reasons for risking everything to carry it to a
successful end."

"And I'm with you because the Northwest is my natural stamping ground,
because I wouldn't mind being rich either, and because I like you, Will.
You're a good and brave boy, and if you can have the advantage of my
teaching and training for about fifty years you'll make a first rate
man."

"Thanks for the endorsement," laughed Will, "and so we stick together
'till everything is over."

"That's it."

The boy continued to look at the map.

"We've got a long journey over plains," he said, "but it seems to me
that when we pass 'em we'll enter mountains without ending. All the west
side of the map is covered with the black outlines that mean ridges and
peaks."

"It's right, too. I've been in that region. There are mountains,
mountains everywhere, and then more mountains, not the puny mountains
they have east of the Missip, a mile, or at best, a mile and a half
high, but crests shooting up so far that they hit right against the
stars, and dozens and dozens of 'em, with snow fields and glaciers, and
ice cold lakes here and there in the valleys. It's a grand country, a
wonderful country, Will, and there's no end to it. The old fur hunters
knew about it, but they've always kept it as secret as they could,
because they didn't want other people to learn about the beaver in
there."

"But we're going to visit it," exclaimed young Clarke with enthusiasm,
"and we're going to find something the fur hunters have never found. I
feel, Jim, that we're going to stand where my father stood and get out
the gold."

"I've feelings of that kind, too, but we've got to prop up feeling with
a power of work and patience and danger, and it's likely too, Will, that
it will be a long time before we reach the end of the line on that map."

Young Clarke folded up the parchment again and put it back in the inside
pocket of his waistcoat, the hunter watching him and remarking:

"Be sure it's in your pocket tight and fast, Will. We couldn't afford to
lose it. Maybe it would be a good idea to make a copy of it."

"I could draw every line on it from memory."

"That being the case we don't exactly need a duplicate, and, as you're a
young fellow, Will, and ought to work, you can take the horses down to
the brook and let 'em drink."

The lad was willing enough to do the task and the horses drank eagerly
and long of the pure stream that had its source in melting snows. All
four had been selected for size, power and endurance, and they were in
splendid condition, the rich and abundant grass of the valley restoring
promptly the waste of travel.

Boyd's great horse, Selim, rubbed his nose in the most friendly manner
against Will's arm, and the lad returned his advances by stroking it.

"I've heard the truth about you," he said. "You can do everything but
talk, and you'll be a most valuable ally of ours on this expedition."

The horse whinnied gently as if he understood and Will, leading the four
back to the rich grass, tethered them at the ends of their long lariats.

"Now, suppose you get out your big glasses," said the hunter, "and we'll
go to the top of the hill for a look. The day is well advanced, the sky
is brilliant and in the thin, clear atmosphere of the great plateau
we'll be able to see a tremendous distance."

Will was proud of his glasses, an unusually fine and powerful pair, and
from the loftiest crest they obtained a splendid view over the rolling
plain. The hunter at his request took the first look. Will watched him
as he slowly moved the glasses from side to side, until they finally
rested on a point at the right edge of the plain.

"Your gaze is fixed at last," the boy said. "What do you see?"

"I wasn't sure at first, but I've made 'em out now."

"Something living then?"

"Buffaloes. They're miles and miles away, but they've been lying down
and rolling and scratching themselves until they make the wallows you
see all over the plains. It's not a big band, two or three hundred,
perhaps. Well, they don't mean anything to us, except a possible supply
of provisions later on. No wonder the Indians hate to see the buffaloes
driven back, because the big beasts are breakfast, dinner and supper on
the hoof to them."

"And maybe to us, too, Jim. I've an idea that we'll live a lot on the
buffalo."

"More'n likely. Well, we could do worse."

"What are you looking at now, Jim? I see that you've shifted your
objective."

"Yes, I've caught some moving black dots to the left of the herd.
They're obscured a little by a swell, but they look to me like horsemen,
Sioux probably."

"If so then they must be hunters, taking advantage of the swell to
attack the buffalo herd."

"Good, sound reasoning. You're learning to think as a scout and hunter.
Yes, they're Sioux, and they're aiming for the herd. Now they've thrown
out flankers, and they're galloping their ponies to the attack. There'll
be plenty of good buffalo meat in some Sioux village before long."

"That means little to us, because after the hunt the warriors will pass
on. What do you see elsewhere on the plain, Jim?"

"I can make out a trace of water. It's one of the little, shallow, sandy
rivers, a long distance from here, but the presence of water is probably
the reason why game is grazing in the neighborhood."

"You don't see any more Indians?"

"No, Will. To the west the horizon comes plumb in that direction are a
long way off, which agrees with your map. But in the north the glasses
have brought the ridges and peaks a sight nearer. They're all covered
with forest, except the crests of some of the higher peaks, which are
white with snow. I'm thinking, too, that in the woods at the bottom of
one of the slopes I can see a trace of smoke rising. Here you, Will,
you've uncommon keen eyes of your own. Take the glasses and look! There,
where the mountains seem to part and make a pass! Is that smoke or is it
just mist?"

Young Clarke looked a long time. He had already learned from Boyd not to
advance an opinion until he had something with which to buttress it, and
he kept his glasses glued upon the great cleft in the mountains, where
the trees grew so thick and high. At last he saw a column of grayish
vapor rising against the green leaves, and, following it with the
glasses to its base, he thought he was able to trace the outlines of
tepees. Another and longer look and, being quite sure, he said:

"There's an Indian village in the pass, Jim."

"That's what I thought, but I wanted you to say so, too. Now my last
doubt is taken away. They're mountain Sioux, of course. I had an idea
that we could go through that way and then curve to the west, but since
the village is there, maybe it will be better to strike out straight
across the plains."

"Perhaps those buffalo hunters will come in here to jerk their meat.
They know of the valley, of course. Have you thought of that, Jim?"

"Yes, I have, and it troubles me. It seems to me that dangers we didn't
expect are gathering, and that we're about to be surrounded. Maybe we'd
better put the packs on the horses, and be ready to start to-night. What
do you think?"

"You know what's best, Jim."

"Not always. We're full partners, now, and in all councils of war,
though there are but two of us, both must speak."

"Then I'm for getting ready to leave to-night, as soon as it's dark. I
suppose it's just chance, but enemies are converging on us. It's a fine
valley, one that I could stay in a long time, but we'd better leave it."

"As the two who make up the council are agreed that settles it. When the
full dark comes we'll go."

Boyd, who resumed the glasses, turned them back on the buffalo hunters,
saw them chase the game toward the valley, and then bring down a
half-dozen.

"They're nearer now to us than they are to the mountains," he said, "and
they're sure to bring the meat in here, where they can hang it on the
trees, or find plenty of firewood. If we had any doubts before, Will,
we've got an order now to go and not be slow about our going."

They watched the Indians a long time, and saw them cleaning and cutting
up the slain buffaloes. Then they retreated to the depths of the valley,
put the packs on the horses, and made ready for flight at the first
coming of dusk. Luckily the night gave promise of being dark, and, when
the sun had set and its last afterglow was gone they mounted, and, each
followed by his packhorse, rode for the western edge of the rim. There
they halted and took a last glance at a retreat in which their stay had
been so brief but so welcome.

"A fine little valley," said Boyd. "It must have been hunted out years
ago, but if it's left alone a few years longer the beaver will return
and build along that brook. Those pools will just suit 'em. If we don't
find the gold we may turn to looking for beaver skins. There are worse
trades."

"At least it provides a lot of fresh air," said Will.

"And you see heaps and heaps of splendid country, all kinds, mountains,
rivers, lakes, valleys, plains. Fur hunters can't complain of the lack
of scenery."

"Which course will we take, Jim?"

"I think we'd better ride due west. That Indian village shuts us off
from the mountains. It's true we may meet 'em on the plains, but likely
we can escape 'em, and then when we've gone far enough we'll turn north
and seek the ranges, where the cover is good. Now, hark to that, will
you!"

From a point to the northward rose a long, quavering shout, shrill in
its texture, and piercing the night like a call. A quiver ran along the
lad's spine.

"A Sioux made that cry!" he exclaimed.

"Beyond a doubt," replied Boyd, "but why he did so I can't tell. Wait."

They sat, silent, on their horses, and in a minute or two the cry was
repeated, but farther toward the east. Will could have mistaken the note
for the howl of a wolf, it contained so much animal quality, but since
the nature of the first had been told to him he knew that the second was
a reply to it.

"It's signals," said Boyd with conviction. "They're talking to one
another, though I don't know what they're saying. But it means the
sooner we get out of the valley the better for this white army of two."

"There's nothing to keep us from starting now."

"That's true. Because, if they find us here, all knowledge of the mine
for which we are looking is likely to perish with us. I don't suppose
the Sioux have made any formal declaration of war, but the warning of
Red Cloud is enough. They wouldn't hesitate to put out of the way two
wandering fellows like ourselves."

As they talked they rode slowly toward the west, the sound of their
horses' hoofs deadened on the turf, and both watching among the trees
for any hostile appearance. Young Clarke was rapidly learning the ways
of the wilderness, from experience, and also because he had in Boyd a
teacher not excelled anywhere in the West. The calls, the long, dying
cries, came again and again, showing the Sioux were steadily approaching
the valley, but the two were leaving it at an equal pace.

Will clutched the reins in his left hand and held the splendid repeating
rifle across the saddle bow with the other. The pack horse, unled, but
obedient to his training, followed close after. Boyd, just ahead of him,
proceeded in the same manner, and now they began to descend the slope
that ended in the open plain. In ten more minutes they would leave the
cover of the last tree. Before them rolled the bare country, swell on
swell, touched but faintly by the moon, yet keen eyes such as those of
the Sioux could trace the figures of horses and men on it for a
considerable distance.

Will felt little shivers as they were about to leave the final row of
trees. He could not help it, knowing that they were going to give up
shelter for those open spaces which, dusky though they were, were yet
revealing.

"It's likely, in any event, that we'll be followed, isn't it?" he said.
"If the Sioux search the valley, and they will, they're sure to find our
traces. Then they'll come over the rim of the hills on our tracks."

"Well reasoned, Will," said the hunter. "You'll learn to be a great
scout and trailer, if you live long enough. That's just what they'll do,
and they'll hang on to our trail with a patience that a white man seldom
shows, because time means little to the Indian. As I said before, when
we're far out on the plains we must make an abrupt turn toward the
north, and lose ourselves among the ranges. For a long time to come the
mountains will be our best friends. I love mountains anyway, Will. They
mean shelter in a wild country. They mean trees, for which the eyes
often ache. They mean grass on the slopes, and cool running water. The
great plains are fine, and they lift you up, but you can have too much
of 'em."

They rode now into the open country and in its dusky moonlight Will
could not at first restrain the feeling that in reality it was as bright
as day. A few hundred yards and both gazed back at the circle of hills
enclosing the valley, hills and forest alike looking like a great black
blur upon the face of the earth. But from the depths of that circling
island came a long, piercing note, instinct with anger and menace.

"Now that was plain talk," said Boyd. "It said that they had found our
trail, that they knew we were white, that they wanted our scalps, and
that they meant to follow us until they got 'em."

"Which being the case," said Will defiantly, "we have to say to them in
reply, though our syllables are unuttered, that we're not afraid, that
they may follow, but they will not take us, that our scalps are the only
scalps we have and we like 'em, that we mean to keep 'em squarely on top
of our heads, where they belong, and, numerous and powerful though the
Sioux nation may be, and brave and skillful though its warriors are,
they won't be able to keep us from finding our mine."

"That's the talk, Will, my boy. It sounds like Red Cloud, the great
Ogalala, Mahpeyalute himself. Fling 'em your glove, as the knights did
in the old time, but while you're flinging it we'll have to do something
besides talking. We must act. Trailers like the Sioux can follow us even
in the night over the plains, and the more ground we gain in the
beginning the better."

He urged his horses into a long, easy gallop and Will promptly followed
at the same gait. The night darkened somewhat, at which they rejoiced,
and then lightened again, at which they were sad, but they continued the
long, swinging pace, which the horses could maintain for hours.

"Try your glasses again, Will," said the hunter. "They will cut through
the dark a long way, and maybe they can tell if the Sioux are now in the
plain."

Young Clarke slowed his pace, and bending in the saddle took a long
look.

"I see nothing," he said. "Do you want to try 'em too, Jim?"

"No. Your eyes are of the best, and your news is good. It's likely that
we've got a lead of seven or eight miles at least. Two or three miles
more and we'd better turn for the mountains. Our horses are a lot bigger
than those of the Sioux, but their ponies, though not much to look at,
are made out of steel. They'd follow for days, and if we stuck to the
plains they'd be sure to run us down at last."

"And we'd have little chance against a big Sioux band?"

"That's the ugly truth, and it's bound to be the mountains for us. I see
a line on the prairie, Will. What do your glasses tell us about it?"

Young Clarke turned his gaze to the front, and after a single glance
said:

"Water. It's one of those shallow prairie streams, I suppose, a foot of
sand, and an inch of water on top."

"If there's not too much alkali in it it'll be mighty welcome to the
horses. Ah, Selim smells it now!"

His great mount raised his head and neighed. Boyd smoothed his long,
silky mane.

"Yes, old friend," he said, as if he were talking to a man, "I'm quite
sure it won't have much alkali, you're going to have a nice, big drink,
so are your friends, and then, ho! for the mountains!"

The stream was just what Will predicted it would be, a foot of sand and
an inch of water, but it was only slightly brackish, and both horses and
horsemen drank freely from it, took a rest and then drank as freely
again. Another half hour and the two remounted.

"Now, Will," said Boyd, "the ridges are our target, and we'll shoot as
straight at 'em as our horses can go, though we'll make the pace slow
for the present. Nothing to be gained by tiring out our mounts before
the race begins."

"And so you look for a real chase?"

"Surely. Those Sioux on their ponies will hang on like grim death and
mighty glad I'll be when the trees on the first slopes reach out their
boughs to hide us. About midnight now, isn't it, Will?"

The lad was able to see the face of his watch and announced that it was
midnight and a half hour more.

"That's good," said Boyd, "because the darkest part of the night is now
coming, and maybe some clouds floating up from the south will help us.
Yes, I think I notice a change already. Three stars that I counted a
little while ago have gone away."

"And about five million are left."

"Still, every little counts. Maybe in an hour or so two or three more
will go away."

"You're certainly an optimist, Jim. You draw hope from very little
things."

"It pays. Hope not only makes you stronger, it also makes you happier.
There, didn't I tell you? I said that two or three stars might go away,
but it's far better than two or three. All the skirmishers have left
and now troops and battalions are departing, too. Maybe whole armies
will leave before long, and give us an entirely black sky."

It grew visibly darker, although many of the stars remained twinkling in
their places, but they were much encouraged, nevertheless, and trusting
in the aid of the night, still saved the strength of their horses.

"It will make it a little harder for the Sioux to trail us," said Boyd,
"and if, by any chance they should get near enough for a shot, the odds
are about twenty to one they can't hit us. Suppose we stop here, give
the horses another short rest, and you search the blackness back there
with your glasses again."

Will was able to discern nothing but the sombre crests of the swells,
and Boyd, dismounting, put his ear to the ground.

"I hear something moving," he said at last, and then, after a short
pause, "it's the beat of hoofs."

"Can they be so near as that?" asked Will in alarm.

"At first I thought it was the Sioux, but now I'm sure it's running
buffalo. I wonder why they're stampeding at this time of the night.
Maybe a hunting party of Northern Cheyennes has wandered in here and
knows nothing about the presence of the Sioux."

"That won't help us, since the Sioux and Northern Cheyennes are allies."

"No, it won't. If the Cheyennes meet the Sioux they'll join 'em in the
pursuit of us. It's a new danger and I don't like it."

Boyd remounted and they rode on slowly. Presently he stopped, and Will,
of course, stopped too.

"Listen, boy," he said, "and you'll hear the thunder of the buffalo.
It's a big herd and they're running our way. I'm as sure as I sit here
in this saddle that they're being driven by hunters."

Will heard a low, rolling sound like that of distant thunder. It was
approaching rapidly, too, and it seemed to his heightened imagination
that it was bearing straight down upon them.

"If they are Cheyennes we may be in the middle of 'em soon," he said.

"If we sit still here," said Boyd, "but that's just what we won't do.
We'll gallop ahead until we come to a deep dip between the swells."

"And then?"

"Dismount, keep low, and let the storm drive by."

They did not have much time to spare, as the rumbling sound was growing
fast beneath the tread of the flying herd, and they urged their horses
into a gallop until they came to a dip, which they thought was deep
enough to hide them. Here they dismounted and holding the lariats,
watched as the thunder of the running herd increased, until they saw its
van of lowered heads, short, curved horns and great, shaggy manes, and
then the dark mass stretching back out of sight.

"There are tens of thousands of 'em," said the hunter. "They'll be some
time in going by, and then, I think, we'll see the Indians hanging on
the rear."

The multitude drove on for a period somewhat longer than Boyd had
predicted, and then Will saw naked horsemen crouched low on ponies, some
firing with rifles and others with bows and arrows.

"They're Cheyennes, as I thought," said Boyd, "and they're enjoying a
mighty killing. There'll be huge feasts for days and days in their
lodges. They're so intent on it, too, that there isn't one chance in a
thousand they'll see us."

"But I'm glad I see them," said Will. "It's a wonderful sight. I never
thought I'd look upon its like, the chase of the buffalo herd under a
midnight moon. It makes my blood leap."

"And mine, too, though I've seen it before. This wild country with its
vast plains and its high mountains takes hold of you, Will. It grips you
with fetters of steel. Maybe, when you find the gold you won't want to
go back to civilization."

"If we find it, it will be easy enough to decide what we wish to do. But
the whole herd is disappearing in the moonlight in the west, and I can
barely make out the last of the Indian hunters who are following 'em. I
can see, though, a lot of beasts running low."

"The wolves. They're always hanging on the rear of a herd, hoping to cut
out calves or buffaloes weak from old age. Now they're expecting to reap
a little from the harvest made by the hunters. There, they've gone too,
though for a long time you'll hear the herd thundering away to the west.
But we don't mind the sound of a danger when the danger itself has
passed. We'll mount and start again on our particular little excursion
to the mountains, where we hope the fresh, cool air will help two
fellows like ourselves, in failing health, no strength, no appetite, no
anything."

The big hunter laughed aloud in pleasure.

"That herd was a help to us," he said. "It passed to the south of us,
and so cut across our trail. If the Sioux are pursuing, as we think they
are, it'll take 'em a long time to find our traces again. We'll take
advantage of it, as our horses are thoroughly rested, and make some
speed."

They swung into an easy gallop, and went on without further talk for a
long time. When two or three hours had passed Will raised his glasses
and gazed into the north.

"I think I see there a blur which is not of the night itself," he
announced. "It may be the loom of the mountains that we're so anxious to
reach."

"But a long way off yet," said the hunter. "Day will come hours before
we can strike the first slopes, and we may have the Sioux hanging on our
trail."

As a faint, gray light in the east told of the coming dawn, they came to
another of the shallow streams of the plains and both horses and
horsemen drank again. Will and Boyd also ate a little food.

"Now turn your glasses to the south and tell me what you see," said the
hunter.

Will gazed and then lowered the glasses, a look of alarm on his face.

"I know from your eyes what you've seen without your telling me," said
Boyd. "The Sioux are there. In some way they've picked up our trail and
are coming. It's a mighty good thing that we've saved our horses.
They're in splendid trim now for a long run, and we'll need every ounce
of their speed and courage."

He did not seek to disguise the full measure of the danger from Will,
who, he knew, would summon his utmost courage to meet it. The lad looked
again through the glasses, and was able now to see a full score of men
coming on their ponies. The dawn had just spread to the south and
against its red and gold they were shown sharply, a long line of black
figures on the crest of a swell.

"Take a look, Jim," said young Clarke, handing him the glasses. "You'll
be able to tell more about 'em than I can."

Boyd studied the picture carefully--it was in reality a picture to
him--and after due deliberation, said:

"They are thirty-two, because I've counted 'em. They're comparatively
fresh, because their ponies are running straight and true. They're
Sioux, as I know from the style of their war bonnets, and they're after
us, as I know from the way they're riding."

"But look the other way, Jim, and see how much nearer the mountains have
come!"

"Aye, lad! They stand up like a fort, and if we reach 'em in time we may
stave off our pursuers. They're coming fast, and they're spreading out
in a long line now. That helps 'em, because it's impossible for
fugitives to run exactly straight, and every time we deviate from the
true course some part of their line gains on us."

"I see a huge, rocky outcrop on the mountain side. Suppose we always
ride for that."

"Something to steer by, so to speak. A good idea. We won't push the
horses hard at first, because it will be a long time before they come
within rifle shot of us. Then maybe we'll show 'em a spurt that'll
count."

But it was hard for Will not to use the utmost speed at once, as every
time he looked back he saw that the Sioux were gaining, their figures
and those of their horses, horse and rider seemingly one, always
standing out black and clear against the rosy dawn. But he knew that
Boyd was right, and he tried hard to calm the heavy beating of his
pulses.

The whole horizon was now lighted by a brilliant sun and the earth was
bathed in its beams. Flight and pursuit went on, unabated, and the
hunter and the boy began to increase the speed of their horses, as they
saw that the Sioux were gaining. They had been riding straight as they
could toward the stony outcrop, but in spite of everything they curved a
little now and then, and some portion of the following line drew closer.
But they were yet a full two miles away, and the mountains were drawing
much nearer. Trees on the slopes detached themselves from the general
mass, and became separate and individual. Once Will thought he caught a
flash of water from a mountain torrent, and it increased the
desirability of those slopes and ridges. How sheltered and protecting
they looked! Surely Boyd and he could evade the Sioux in there!

"We'll make it easily," said Boyd, and then he added with sudden
violence. "No, we won't! Look, there on your right, Will!"

Four warriors on swift ponies suddenly emerged from a swell scarcely a
quarter of a mile away, and uttered a shout of triumph. Perhaps they
were stray hunters drawn by the spectacle of the pursuit, but it was
obvious that, in any event, they meant to co-operate with the pursuers.

"They're Sioux, too," said Boyd. "Now, steady, Will. It's a new and
pressing danger, of course, but it may help us, too."

"How so?"

"I think I can give 'em a healthy lesson. We all learn by experience,
and they'll take notice, if I make a good example. They're bearing down
on our flank. You lead, Will, and keep straight for our rock. The four
will soon be within range, as this repeating rifle of mine is a beauty,
and it carries mighty far. The old muzzle loader is just a pistol by the
side of it. Come on, my fine fellows! The nearer you are the better! I
learned long ago to shoot from a running horse, and that's more than
many Sioux can do."

The four Sioux on the right, bent low, were urging their ponies forward
at their utmost speed. From the band behind came a tremendous yell,
which, despite the distance, reached Boyd and young Clarke, and,
apparently, they had full warrant in thus giving utterance to their
feeling of triumph. The sudden appearance of the warriors coming down
the dip was like the closing of a trap and it seemed that all chance of
escape was cut off from the two who rode so desperately for the
mountains.

The hunter shut his teeth tightly and smiled in ironic fashion. Whenever
he was highly pleased he grew rather talkative, and now he had much to
say for a man whose life was about to turn on a hair.

"If the four on the ponies off there knew the peril into which they were
riding they wouldn't ride so hard," he said. "But the Sioux are not yet
acquainted with the full merits of a long range repeating rifle, nor do
they understand how well I can shoot. I'm as good a marksman as there is
in the West, if I do say it myself, and lest you may think me a boaster,
Will, I'll soon prove it."

He dropped the reins on the neck of Selim, who, though unguided, ran on
straight and true, and grasped the splendid rifle with both hands. Will
ceased to think of the band behind them and began to watch the hunter,
who, though still smiling, had become one of the most dangerous of human
beings.

"Yes, my four friends, you're overhauling us fast," murmured the hunter,
"and I'm glad of it, because then I don't have to do so much waiting,
and, when there's ugly work at hand, one likes to get it over. Ah, I
think they're near enough now!"

The rifle sprang to his shoulder, a jet of flame leaped from the muzzle,
and, with the sharp crack, the foremost Sioux rolled to the ground and
lay still, his frightened pony galloping off at an angle. The hunter
quickly pulled the trigger again and the second Sioux also was smitten
by sudden death. The other two turned, but one of them was wounded by
the terrible marksman, and the pony of the fourth was slain, his rider
hiding behind the body. A dismal wail came from the Sioux far back. The
hunter lowered his great weapon, and one hand resumed the bridle rein.

[Illustration: The rifle sprang to his shoulder, a jet of flame leaped
from the muzzle.]

"A rifle like mine is worth more than its weight in gold," he said.
"It's worth its weight in diamonds, rubies, emeralds and all the other
precious jewels at a time like this. I can say, too, that's about the
best shooting I ever did, and I think it'll save us. Even the band
behind, thirty or so in number, won't want to ride full tilt into rifles
like ours."

"The first slopes are not more than three or four miles away now," said
young Clarke, "and no matter how hard they push they can't overtake us
before we reach the trees. But Jim, how are we to ride through those
high mountains, and, if we abandon the horses, we might as well give up
our quest."

"I chose these horses myself, Will," said Boyd, "and I knew what I was
about. I trained Selim, and, of course, he's the best, but the others
are real prize packages, too. Why, they can walk up the side of a cliff.
They can climb trees, and they can jump chasms fifty feet wide."

"Come down to earth, Jim. Stay somewhere in the neighborhood of truth."

"Well, maybe I do draw a rather long bow, but horses learn to be
mountain climbers, and ours are the very best of that kind. They'll take
us up through the ridges, never fear. The Sioux will follow, for a
while, at least, but in the deep forest you see up there we'll shake 'em
off."

"Hear 'em shouting now! What are they up to?"

"Making a last rush to overtake us, while we're yet in the plain. But it
is too late, my gay scalp hunters!"

The mountains were now drawing near very fast, and with the heavy
forest along their slopes they seemed to Will to come forward of
themselves to welcome them. He became suddenly aware that his body ached
from the long gallop, and that the dust raised by the beating hoofs was
caked thickly on his face. His lips were dry and burning, and he longed
for water.

"In five more minutes we'll be on the first slope," said Boyd, "and as
we'll soon be hidden in the forest I think I'll say farewell to our
pursuers."

"I don't understand you, Jim."

"I'm going to say only one word, and it'll be short and sharp."

He turned suddenly in his saddle, raised the repeating rifle and fired
once at the band.

He had elevated the sight for a very long shot, regarding it as a mere
chance, but the bullet struck a pony and a few moments of confusion in
the band followed. Now Boyd and young Clarke made their horses use the
reserves of strength they had saved so prudently, and with a fine spurt
soon gained the shelter of the woods, in which they disappeared from the
sight of the pursuing horde.

They found themselves among oaks, aspens, pines, cedars, and birch, and
they rode on a turf that was thick, soft and springy. But Selim neighed
his approval and Boyd pulled down to a walk. A little farther on both
dismounted at his suggestion.

"It'll limber us up and at the same time help the horses," he said.
"Knowing what kind of rifles we carry and how we can shoot, the Sioux
won't be in any hurry to ride into the forest directly after us. We've
a big advantage now in being able to see without being seen. As we
needn't hurry, suppose we stop and take another look with those glasses
of yours, Will. I never thought they'd prove so useful when you insisted
on bringing 'em."

Will obeyed at once.

"They're a mile or so away," he said, "and they've stopped. They're
gathered in a semi-circle around one man who seems to be a chief, and I
suppose he's talking to 'em."

"Likely! Most likely. I can read their minds. They're a little bit
bashful about riding on our trail, when we have the cover of the forest.
Repeating rifles don't encourage you to get acquainted with those who
don't want to know you. I can tell you what they'll do."

"What, Jim?"

"The band will split into about two equal parts. One will ride to the
right and the other to the left. Then, knowing that we can't meet both
with the rifles, they'll cautiously enter the mountains and try to pick
up our trail. Am I right or am I wrong?"

"Right, O, true prophet! They've divided and already they're riding off
in opposite directions. And what's the best thing for us to do?"

"We'll lead the horses up this valley. I see through leaves a little
mountain stream, and we'll drink there all the water we want. Then we'll
push on deeper and deeper into the mountains, and when we think we're
clear out of their reach we'll push on."

They drank plentifully at the brook, and even took the time to bathe
their hands and faces. Then they mounted and rode up the slopes, the
pack horses following.

"Didn't I tell you they were first class mountain climbers?" said Boyd
with pride. "Why, mules themselves couldn't beat 'em at it."

When twilight came they were high on the slopes under the cover of the
forest, pushing forward with unabated zeal.




CHAPTER III

THE LITTLE GIANT


Boyd rode in front, Will was just behind, and then came the two heavily
laden pack horses, following their masters with a faith that nothing
could shake. The hunter seemed to have an instinct for choosing the
right way, or else his eyes, like those of an owl, were able to pierce
the dark. He avoided chasms and cliffs, chose the best places on the
slopes, and wherever he wound he always led deeper and deeper into the
vast maze of high mountains.

Will looked back toward the plains, but he could see no trace of them
now, and he did not believe that the Sioux, however skilled they might
be, could follow their trail up the ridges in the dark. Meanwhile the
stars came out, and a half moon rode in a medium sky. The boy's eyes,
grown used to the night, were now able to see quite clearly, and he
noticed that the region into which they were riding was steadily growing
wilder. Now and then they passed so close to the edge of chasms that he
shivered a little, as he looked down into the dark wells. Then they
passed up ravines where the lofty cliffs, clothed in stunted pine and
cedar, rose high above them, and far in the north he caught the
occasional glimpses of white crests on which the snow lay deep.

Boyd became quite cheerful, and, for a while, hummed a little air under
his breath. When he ceased singing he said:

"I don't know where we're going, Will, but I do know that we're going
away from the Sioux. They'll try to trail us tomorrow when the light
comes, and they may be able to do it, but we'll be moving on again, and,
however patient trailers may be, a trail that lengthens forever will
wear out the most patient trailer of them all."

"Isn't that a creek down there?" asked Will, pointing to a silver flash
in the dusk.

"So it is, and while these mountain streams usually have rough beds,
scattered with boulders, we'll ride up it as far as we can. It may be a
great help in hiding our trail."

They rode down the slope and urged the horses into the water, although
the good beasts showed reluctance, fearful of the bowlders and the rough
footing, but, when they were in, the two riders allowed them to pick the
way, and thus they advanced slowly and with extreme caution a distance
of five full miles. They heard a roaring and approached a fine fall of
about thirty feet, over which the creek tumbled, sending up much white
foam.

"This watery road is now blocked, that's quite sure," said Boyd. "But
we've been able to use it a much greater distance than I thought, and it
may throw off the Sioux entirely."

They emerged from the water and the horses climbed a steep slope to the
crest of a ridge, where they stood panting. Boyd and young Clarke
slipped from the saddles and stood by. The half moon and clusters of
stars still made in the sky a partial light, enabling them to see that
they stood upon a sort of broad shelf, sprinkled with large trees
without undergrowth, but well covered with long grass. The only way of
approach from the south was the rocky brook, along the bed of which they
had come. What lay to the north they did not know, but the shelf seemed
to narrow there.

"A large part of the night is spent," said Boyd, "and as it's not
possible for the Sioux to overtake us before dawn I vote we camp here,
because we're pretty well worn out, and the horses are dead tired. What
does the other half of the army say?"

"It says this place was just made for us," replied Will, "and we
shouldn't go forward another inch tonight."

"Then we'll unsaddle, tether the horses and take to our blankets,
though, if you say so, we will first draw a little on the commissariat."

"No. I'm too tired to eat. I'd rather go to sleep."

"The two halves of the army are in agreement. So will I."

The horses fell to cropping the rich grass, but their riders, seeking
the softest place they could find, folded themselves in their blankets
and soon slumbered as soundly as if they were in the softest beds
civilization could furnish.

Will awoke before dawn, and instantly remembered where he was. But while
all had been strife and strain and anxiety before he slept, he felt now
an immense peace, the great peace of the mountains. The horses having
eaten their fill were lying down. The murmurs of the swift brook below
came up to his ears, and with it the sound of a faint breeze playing in
just a whisper among the leaves. Far above him soared peaks and ridges,
so many and high that they seemed to prop up the eternal blue.

Will realized that he loved the mountains. Why shouldn't he? They had
given him refuge when he needed it most, saving him and Boyd from
dreadful torture and certain death. Somewhere in the heart of them lay
the great treasure that he meant to find, and they possessed a majesty
that appealed not merely to his sense of beauty, but to a spiritual
feeling that was in truth an uplift to the soul.

He was awake scarcely a minute, but all the events of the last few days
passed in a swift panorama before his mind--the warning of Red Cloud,
the silent departure by night from the camp of the troops, the pursuit
by the Sioux, and the escape into the high ranges. Rapidly as it passed
it was almost as vivid as if it were happening again, and then he was
asleep once more.

When he awoke the dawn was an hour old, and Boyd was kindling a low fire
down by the edge of the stream.

"We'll draw on the coffee once more this morning," he said. "After all
that we've passed through we're entitled to two cups of it apiece. I'll
make bread and warm some of the dried beef, too. Suppose, while I'm
doing it you climb to the crest over there, and use those glasses of
yours for all they're worth."

It was a stiff climb to the summit, but once there Will had a tremendous
view in all directions. Far to the south he was able to catch through
the powerful lenses the dim line of the plains, but on all other sides
were mountains, and yet more mountains. In the north they seemed very
high, but far to the west was a mighty rounded peak, robed at the top in
white, towering over every other. The narrow valley and the ridges were
heavy with forest, but the glasses could find no sign of human life.

He descended with his report, and found the coffee, the bread and the
meat ready, and while he had been too tired to eat the night before he
had a tremendous appetite now. When breakfast was over they sat by the
stream and considered the future. Boyd was quite sure the Sioux were
still following, and that they would eventually strike the trail, though
they might be two or three days in doing so. He was of the opinion that
they should go farther into the high ranges.

"And what becomes of our quest?" asked Will.

"You know, lad," responded the hunter, whimsically, "that the longest
way round is sometimes the shortest way through, and those that are in
too great a hurry often fall over their own feet. If you are careful
about your health and don't get shot you ought to live sixty or seventy
years yet, because you are surely a robust youngster, and so you're
richer in time than in anything else. I am, too, and for these reasons
we can afford to go into the very heart of the high mountains, where
we'll be well hidden, and bide until the danger of the Sioux pursuit has
passed."

"A long speech, Jim, but probably a true one. Do we start right away?"

"Aye, lad, the sooner the better. Both the horses and ourselves are fed
and refreshed. We don't know what this shelf leads to, but we can soon
find out."

They resaddled, but did not mount, letting the well-trained horses
follow, and proceeded along the shelf, until they entered a narrow pass,
where they were compelled to go in single file, the hunter leading the
way. Far below him Will heard the creek roaring as it foamed forward in
rapids, and he was glad that the horses were, what Boyd had declared
them to be, trained mountain climbers, walking on with even step,
although he felt an instinctive desire to keep as far as he could from
the cliff's edge, and lean against the slope on the other side. But
Boyd, made familiar with such trails by his years of experience in the
mountains, whistled gaily.

"Everything comes our way," he said. "If we were at the head of a trail
like this we could hold it against the entire Sioux nation, if we had
cartridges enough."

"I hope it won't go on forever," said Will. "It makes me feel a little
dizzy."

"It won't. It's opening out now. The level land is widening on either
side of the creek and that means another valley not much farther on."

But it was a good four miles before they emerged into a dip, covering
perhaps two square miles, covered heavily with forest and with a
beautiful little blue lake at the corner. Will uttered a cry of pleasure
at the sight of the level land, the great trees green with foliage, and
the gem of a lake.

"We couldn't have found a finer place for a camp," he said. "We're the
children of luck."

But the wise hunter shook his head.

"When the morning's cold we hate to pull ourselves out of comfortable
beds," he said, "and for mountaineers such as we've become I'll admit
that this valley looks like the Garden of Eden, but here we do not
bide."

"Why not?"

"Because it's too good for us to live in. The Sioux, of course, know of
it, and what draws us draws them, too. For a long time the finer a spot
becomes the more dangerous it is for us. No, we'll ride on past this
happy valley straight into the mountains."

"But at least let me take a little swim in that blue lake."

"Well, there's no harm in that, provided you're quick about it. When you
come out I'll take one myself."

Will undressed in a couple of minutes and sprang into the water, which
he found extremely cold, but he swam joyously for five minutes or so,
when he emerged and was followed by Boyd. When they were in the saddle
again both felt that their strength had been renewed and Will waved one
hand in farewell to the little blue lake.

"Good-bye, Friend Lake," he said. "You're not large, but you're very
beautiful, and some day I hope to come back and bathe in you again."

"The great ranges of mountains which run all about over the western part
of the continent are full of such pleasant valleys and cool little
lakes," said the hunter. "Often the lakes are far up the slopes, many
thousands of feet above the sea, and sometimes you don't see 'em until
you break right through the trees and bushes and come square up against
the water. If we keep on, as I intend we shall, it's likely that we'll
see a lot of 'em."

The lad's eyes kindled.

"That being so," he said, "I don't mind turning aside a while from our
real hunt, because then we'll be explorers. It will be glorious to find
new lakes and streams."

"Yes, it'll make the waiting easier, provided, of course, that we don't
have rain and storms. Rain can turn a wilderness paradise in fifteen
minutes into a regular place for the condemned. We've almost as much to
fear now from the sky as we have from the Indians on the ground. When
you see a little cloud up there you can begin to worry."

"But I don't see any, and so I refuse to worry yet."

They reached the farther edge of the valley and began to climb a slope,
which, easier at first, soon became rather stiff. But the horses once
more justified the hunter's praise and pressed forward nobly. He and
Will dismounted again, and they let Selim lead where he would.

"All horses have wilderness sense," said Boyd, "and Selim, having both
an educated sense and a wild sense, is sure to pick out the best way."

His confidence was not misplaced, as the horse instinctively chose the
easiest path, and, before the twilight came, they reached the crest of a
lofty ridge, from which they saw a sea of mountains in all directions, a
scene so majestic that it made Will draw a sharp breath.

"I think we'd better go down the slope until it becomes too dark for us
to see a way," said Boyd, "because we're up so high now that the night
is sure to be biting cold here on the very top of the ridge."

In an hour they found a glen sheltered well by high trees all about and
with a pool of icy cold water at the edge. It was a replica on a small
scale of the valley and lake they had left behind, and glad enough they
were to find it. They drank of the pool, and the horses followed them
there with eagerness. Then, eating only cold food, they made ready for
the night.

"Get an extra pair of blankets from your pack, Will," said Boyd. "You
don't yet know how cold the night can be on these mountains, at any time
of the year."

The hunter's advice was good, as Will the next morning, despite two
blankets beneath him and two above him, felt cold, and when he sprang up
he pounded his chest vigorously to make the circulation brisk. Boyd
laughed.

"I'm about as cold as you are," he said, "and, in view of the winter
into which we've suddenly dropped, we'll have hot coffee and hot food
for breakfast. I don't think we risk anything by building a fire here.
What's the matter with our horses?"

They had tethered the horses in the night, and all four of them suddenly
began to rear and stamp in terror.

"There's a scout watching us!" exclaimed Will.

"A scout?" said Boyd, startled.

"Yes! See him standing on the big rock, far off there to the right."

The hunter looked and then drew a breath of relief.

"Old Ephraim!" he said.

A gigantic grizzly bear was upreared on a great rocky outcrop about
three hundred yards away, and the opalescent light of the morning
magnified him in the boy's eyes, until he was the largest beast in the
world. Monstrous and sinister he stood there, unmoving, gazing at the
strange creatures in the little camp. He seemed to Will a symbol of this
vast and primeval new world into which he had come. Remembering his
glasses he took them and brought the great grizzly almost before his
eyes.

"He appears to be showing anger and a certain curiosity because we're
here," he said. "I don't think he understands us, but he resents our
invasion of his territory."

"Well, we're not going to explain who we are. If he don't meddle with us
we won't meddle with him."

The grizzly did not stay long, retreating from the rock, then
disappearing in the underbrush. Will had qualms now and then lest he
should break through the bushes and appear in their little glen, but
Boyd knew him better. He was content to leave alone those who left him
alone.

The breakfast with its hot coffee and hot food was very grateful, and
continuing the descent of the slope they passed through other narrow
passes and over other ridges, but all the while ascending gradually, the
world about them growing in majesty and beauty. Four days and a large
part of four nights they traveled thus after leaving the little valley
with the blue lake, and the bright air was growing steadily colder as
they rose. Boyd talked a little now of stopping, but he did not yet see
a place that fulfilled all his ideas of a good and safe camp, though he
said they would soon find it.

"How far do you think we've come into the mountains?" asked Will.

"About a hundred miles, more or less," replied the hunter.

"Seems to me more like a thousand, chiefly more. If the Sioux find us
here they'll have to be the finest mountain climbers and ravine crossers
the world has ever seen. Just what are you looking for, Jim?"

"Four things, wood, water, grass and shelter. We've got to have 'em,
both for ourselves and the horses, and we've got to find 'em soon,
because, d'you see, Will, we've been wonderfully favored by Providence.
The rains and storms have held off longer than they usually do in the
high mountains, but we can't expect 'em to hold off forever just for our
sakes. Besides, the hoofs of the horses are getting sore, and it's time
to give 'em a long rest."

They were now far up the high slopes, but not beyond the timber range.
The air was thin and cold, and at night they always used two pairs of
blankets, spreading the under pair on thick beds of dry leaves. In the
morning the pools would be frozen over, but toward noon the ice under
the slanting rays of the sun would melt. The march itself, and the air
laden with odors of pine and spruce, and cedar and balsam, was healthful
and invigorating. Will felt his chest expand. He knew that his lung
power, already good, was increasing remarkably and that his muscles were
both growing and hardening.

Another day and crossing a ridge so sharp that they were barely able to
pull the horses over it, they came to a valley set close around by high
mountains, a valley about three miles long and a mile wide, one-third of
its surface covered by a lake, usually silver in color, but varying with
the sky above it. Another third of the valley was open and heavy in
grass, the remainder being in forest with little undergrowth.

"Here," said Boyd, "we'll find the four things we need, wood, water,
grass and shelter, and since it's practically impossible for the
original band of Sioux to trail us into this cleft, here we will stay
until such time as we wish to resume our great hunt. What say you?"

"Seems to me, Jim, that we're coming home. This valley has been waiting
for us a great many years, but the true tenants have arrived at last."

"That's the right spirit. Hark to Selim, now! He, too, approves."

The great horse, probably moved by the sight of grass and water, raised
his head and neighed.

"If we had felt any doubts the horses would have settled it for us,"
said Will. "I understand their language and they say in the most correct
English that here we are to bide and rest, as long as we wish. The
presence of the lake indicates a running stream, an entrance and exit,
so to speak. I think, Jim, it's about the most beautiful valley I ever
saw."

They descended the last slope, and came to the creek that drained the
lake, a fine, clear, cold current, flowing swiftly over a rocky bottom.
After letting the horses drink they forded it, and rode on into the
valley. Will noticed something white on the opposite slope, and
examining it through his glasses saw that it was a foaming cascade.

"It's the stream that feeds the lake," he said. "It rushes down from the
higher mountains, and here we have a beautiful waterfall. Nature has
neglected nothing in preparing our happy valley, providing not only
comfort and security but scenic beauty as well."

The hunter looked a moment or two at the waterfall, and the tremendous
mountains about them with a careful eye.

"What is it, Jim?" asked Will.

"I'm looking for tracks."

"What tracks? You said we wouldn't find any Sioux in here."

"Not the footprints of the Sioux."

"It's not in the range of the Crows, Blackfeet or Assiniboines. Surely
you don't expect them."

"I don't expect Crows, Blackfeet or Assiniboines."

"Then what do you expect?"

"Wild animals."

"Why bother about wild animals? Armed as we are we've nothing to fear
from them."

"Nothing to fear, but a lot to hope. I think we're likely to stay here
quite a spell, and we'll need 'em in our business. Remember that for the
present, Will, we're wild men, and we'll have to live as wild men have
lived since the world began. We want their meat and their skins."

"The meat I understand, because I'd like to bite into a juicy piece of
it now, but we're not fur hunters."

"No, but we need the skins of big animals, and we need 'em right away.
This weather can't last forever. We're bound to have a storm sometime
soon. We must first make a wickiup. It's quite simple. The Sioux always
do it. A Sioux warrior never sleeps in the open if he can help it, and
as they've lived this sort of life for more hundreds of years than
anybody knows they ought to know something about it."

"But I don't see that cloud you told me several days ago to watch for."

"It will come. It's bound to come. Now here's the lake ahead of us.
Isn't it a beauty? I told you we'd find a lot of these fine little lakes
all along the slopes of the ridges, but this seems to be the gem of them
all. See how the water breaks into waves and looks like melted silver!
And the banks sloping and firm, covered with thick green turf, run right
down to the water's edge, like a gentleman's park."

"It's all that you claim for it," said Will, making a wide, sweeping
gesture, "and, bright new lake, I christen thee Lake Boyd!"

"The lake accepts the name," said the hunter with a pleased smile, and
then he added, also making a wide, sweeping gesture:

"Green and sheltered valley, I christen thee Clarke Valley."

"I, too, accept the compliment," said Will.

"The far side of the valley is much the steeper," said the hunter, "and
I think it would be a good idea for us to build the wickiup over there.
It would be sheltered thoroughly on one side at least by the lofty
cliffs."

"Going back a moment to the search you were making a little while ago,
have you noticed the footprints of any wild animals?"

"Aye, Will, my lad, so I have. I've seen tracks of elk, buffalo and
bear, and of many smaller beasts."

"Then, that burden off your mind, we might as well locate the site of
our house."

"Correct. I think I see it now in an open space under the shelter of the
cliff."

They had ridden across the valley, and both marked a slight elevation
under the shadow of the cliff, a glen forty or fifty yards across,
protected by thick forest both to east and west, and by thin forest on
the south, from which point they were approaching.

"It's the building site that's been reserved for us five hundred years,
maybe," said the hunter. "The mountain and the trees will shelter us
from most of the big winds, and if any of the trees should blow down
their falling bodies would not reach us here in the center of the open
space. There is grass everywhere for the horses, and water, both lake
and running, for all of us."

They unsaddled the riding horses, took the packs off the others and
turned them loose. All four neighed gratefully, and set to work on the
grass.

"They've done a tremendous lot of mountain climbing, and they've carried
heavy burdens," said Boyd, "and they're entitled to a long rest, long
enough to heal up their sore feet and fill out their sides again. Now,
Will, you'll make a great hunter some day, but suppose, for the present,
you guard the packs while I look for an elk and maybe a bear. Two of
them would furnish more meat than we could use in a long time, but we
need their skins."

"I'm content to wait," said Will, who was saddle-tired.

He sat down on the thick, soft grass by the side of the packs, and his
physical system, keyed up so long, suffered a collapse, complete but not
unpleasant. Every nerve relaxed and he sank back against his pack,
content to be idle as long as Boyd was away. But while his body was weak
then, his mind was content. Clarke Valley, which had been named after
him, was surely wonderful. It was green and fresh everywhere and Boyd
Lake was molten silver. Not far away the cataract showed white against
the mountainside, and its roar came in a pleasant murmur to his ears.

He heard a distant shot, but it did not disturb him. He knew it was
Boyd, shooting something, probably the elk he wished. After a while he
heard another report, and he put that down as the bear. His surmise was
correct in both instances.

Boyd, with his help, skinned both the bear and the elk, and they hung
great quantities of the flesh of both in the trees to dry. Boyd
carefully scraped the skins with his hunting knife, and they, too, were
hung out to dry. While they were hanging there Will also shot a bear,
and his hairy covering was added to the others.

A few days later Boyd built the wickiup, called by the Sioux tipiowinja.
Taking one of the sharp axes he quickly cut a number of slender, green
poles, the larger ends of which he sharpened well and thrust deep into
the ground, until he had made with them a complete circle. The smaller
ends were bent toward a common center and fastened tightly with withes
of skin. The space between was thatched with brush, and the whole was
covered with the skins of elk and bear, which Boyd stitched together
closely and firmly. Then they cut out a small doorway, which they could
enter by stooping. The floor was of poles, made smooth and soft with a
covering of dead leaves.

It was rude and primitive, but Will saw at once that in need it would
protect both their stores and themselves.

"I learned that from the Sioux long ago," said Boyd, not without some
admiration of his handiwork. "It's close and hot, and after we've put
the stores in we'll have to tuck ourselves away in the last space left.
But it will feel mighty good in a storm."

The second night after the wickiup was finished his words came true. A
great storm gathered in the southwest, the first that Will had seen in
the high mountains, and it was a tremendous and terrifying manifestation
of nature.

The mountains fairly shook with the explosions of thunder, and the play
of lightning was dazzling on the ridges. When thunder and lightning
subsided somewhat, the hunter and the lad crept into the wickiup and
listened to the roaring of the rain as it came. Will, curled against the
side upon his pack, heard the fierce wind moaning as if the gods
themselves were in pain, and the rain beating in gust after gust. The
stout poles bent a little before both wind and rain, but their
elasticity merely added to their power of resistance, as the wickiup, so
simple in its structure and yet so serviceable, stood fast, and Boyd had
put on its skin covering so well that not a single drop of water
entered.

In civilization he might have found the wickiup too close to be
supportable, but in that raging wilderness, raging then at least, it was
snug beyond compare. He had a thought or two for the horses, but he knew
they would find shelter in the forest. Boyd, who was curled on the other
side of the wickiup, was already asleep, but the lad's sense of safety
and shelter was so great that he lay awake, and listened to the
shrieking of the elements, separated from him only by poles and a
bearskin. The power of contrast was so great that he had never felt
more comfortable in his life, and after listening awhile he, too, fell
asleep, sleeping soundly until day, when the storm had passed, leaving
the air crisper and fresher, and the earth washed afresh and clean.

They found the horses already grazing, and their bear and elk steaks,
which they had fastened securely, safe on the boughs. The valley itself,
so keen and penetrating was the odor of balsam and pine, seemed redolent
with perfume, and the lake itself had taken on a new and brighter tint
of silver.

"Boyd Lake and Clarke Valley are putting on their best in our honor,"
said Will.

Then they ate a huge breakfast, mostly of elk and bear meat, and
afterward considered the situation. Will had the natural impatience of
youth, but Boyd was all for staying on a couple of weeks at least. They
might not find another such secure place, one that furnished its own
food, and nothing would be lost while much could be gained by waiting.
It was easy enough to persuade the lad, who was, on the whole, rather
glad to be convinced, and then they turned their thoughts toward the
improvement of a camp which had some of the elements of permanency.

"We could, of course, build a good, strong cabin," said Boyd, "and with
our stout axes it would not take long to do it, but I don't think we'll
need the protection of logs. The wickiup ought to serve. We may not have
another storm while we're here, but showers are pretty sure to come."

To provide against contingencies they strengthened the wickiup with
another layer of poles, and Boyd spread over the leaves on the floor the
skin of a huge grizzly bear that he killed on one of the slopes. They
felt now that it was secure against any blizzard that might sweep
through the mountains, and that within its shelter they could keep warm
and dry in the very worst of times. But they did not sleep in it again
for a full week, no rain falling at night during that period. Instead
they spread their blankets under the trees.

"It's odd, and I don't pretend to account for it," said Boyd, "but it's
only progressive white men who understand the value of fresh air. As I
told you, the Sioux never sleep outside, when they can help it. Neither
do the other Indians. In the day they live outdoors, but at night they
like to seal themselves up in a box, so to speak."

"Rushing from extreme to extreme."

"Maybe, but as for me, I want no better bed than the soft boughs of
balsam, with blankets and the unlimited blue sky, provided, of course,
that it isn't raining or hailing or sleeting or snowing. It's powerful
healthy. Since we've come into Clarke Valley I can see, Will, that
you've grown about two inches in height and that you're at least six
inches bigger around the chest."

"You're a pretty big exaggerator!" laughed Will, "but I certainly do
feel bigger and stronger than I was when I arrived here. If the Sioux
will only let us bide in peace awhile I think I may keep on growing.
Tell me more about the Sioux, Jim. They're a tremendous league, and I
suppose you know as much about 'em as any white man in this part of the
world."

"I've been in their country long enough to learn a lot, and there's a
lot to learn. The Sioux are to the West what the Iroquois were to the
East, that is, so far as their power is concerned, though their range of
territory is far larger than that of the Iroquois ever was. They roam
over an extent of mountain and plain, hundreds and hundreds of miles
either way. I've heard that they can put thirty thousand warriors in the
field, though I don't know whether it's true or not, but I do know that
they are more numerous and warlike than any other Indian nation in the
West, and that they have leaders who are really big men, men who think
as well as fight. There's Mahpeyalute, whom you saw and whom we call Red
Cloud, and Tatanka Yotanka, whom we call Sitting Bull, and Gray Wolf and
War Eagle and lots of others.

"Besides, the Sioux, or, in their own language, the Dakotas, are a great
nation made up of smaller nations, all of the same warlike stock. There
is the tribe of the Mendewakaton, which means Spirit Lake Village, then
you have the Wahpekute or Leaf Shooters; the Wahpeton, the Leaf Village;
the Sisseton, the Swamp Village; the Yankton, the End Village, the
Yanktonnais, the Upper End Village, and the Teton, the Prairie Village.
The Teton tribe, which is very formidable, is subdivided into the
Ogalala, the Brule, and the Hunkpapa. Red Cloud, as I've told you
before, is an Ogalala. And that's a long enough lesson for you for one
day. Now, like a good boy, go catch some fish."

Will had discovered very early that Lake Boyd, which was quite deep,
contained fine lake trout and also other fish almost as good to the
taste. As their packs included strong fishing tackle it was not
difficult to obtain all the fish they wanted, and the task generally
fell to the lad. Now, at Boyd's suggestion, he fulfilled it once more
with the usual success.

Game of all kinds, large and small, was abundant, the valley being
fairly overrun with it. Boyd said that it had come in through the narrow
passes, and its numbers indicated that no hunters had been there in a
long time. Will even found a small herd of about a dozen buffaloes
grazing at the south end of the valley, but the next day they
disappeared, evidently alarmed by the invasion of human beings. But the
deer continued numerous and there were both bears and mountain lions
along the slopes.

Will, who had a certain turn for solitude, being of a thoughtful,
serious nature, ceased to find the waiting in the valley irksome. He
began to think less of the treasure for which he had come so far and
through such dangers. They _had_ found a happy valley, and he did not
care how long they stayed in it, all nature being so propitious. He had
never before breathed an air so fine, and always it was redolent with
the odor of pine and balsam. He began to feel that Boyd had not
exaggerated much when he talked about his increase in height and chest
expansion.

Both he and the hunter bathed every morning in Lake Boyd. At first Will
could not endure its cold water more than five minutes, but at the end
of ten days he was able to splash and swim in it as long as he liked.

Their days were not all passed in idleness, as they replenished their
stores by jerking the meat of both bear and deer. At the end of two
weeks the hunter began to talk of departure, and he and Will walked
toward the western end of the valley, where the creek issued in a narrow
pass, the only road by which they could leave.

"It's likely to be a mighty rough path," said Boyd, "but our horses are
still mountain climbers and we'll be sure to make it."

They went a little nearer and listened to the music of the singing
waters, as the creek rushed through the cleft. It was a fine, soothing
note, but presently another rose above it, clear and melodious.

It was a whistle, and it had such a penetrating quality that Will, at
first, thought it was a bird. Then he knew it sprang from the throat of
a man, hidden by the bushes and coming up the pass. Nearer and nearer it
came and mellower and mellower it grew. He had never before heard anyone
whistle so beautifully. It was like a song, but it was evident that
someone was entering their happy valley, and in that wilderness who
could come but an enemy? Nearer and nearer the whistler drew and the
musical note of the whistling and its echoes filled all the pass.

"Wouldn't it be better for us to draw back a little where we can remain
hidden among the brakes?" said Will.

"Yes, do it," replied the hunter, "just for precaution against any
possible mistake, but I don't think we really need to do so. In all the
world there's not another such whistler! It's bound to be Giant Tom,
Giant Tom his very self, and none other!"

"Giant Tom! Giant Tom! Whom do you mean?" exclaimed Will.

"Just wait a minute and you'll see."

The whistler was now very near, though hidden from sight by the bushes,
and he was trilling forth old airs of home that made the pulses in the
lad's throat beat hard.

"It's Giant Tom. There's no other such in the world," repeated Boyd more
to himself than to Will. "In another minute you'll see him. You can hear
him now brushing past the bushes. Ah, there he is! God bless him!"

The figure of an extraordinary man now came into view. He was not more
than five feet tall, nor was he particularly broad for his height. He
was just the opposite of a giant in size, but there was something about
him that suggested the power of a giant. He had a wonderfully quick and
light step, and it was Will's first impression that he was made of
steel, instead of flesh and blood. His face, shaven smoothly, told
little of his age. He was dressed in weather-beaten brown, rifle on
shoulder, and two mules, loaded with the usual packs and miner's tools,
followed him in single file and with sure step.

Will's heart warmed at once to the little man who continued to whistle
forth a volume of clear song, and whose face was perhaps the happiest he
had ever seen. Boyd stepped suddenly from the shielding brushwood and
extended his hand.

"Tom Bent," he said, "put 'er there!"

"Thar she is," said Giant Tom, placing his palm squarely in Boyd's.

"My young friend, Mr. William Clarke," said the hunter, nodding at the
lad, "and this is Mr. Thomas Bent, better known to me and others as
Giant Tom."

"Glad to meet you, William," said the little man, and ever afterward he
called the boy William. "Anybody that I find with Jim, here, has got on
'im the stamp an' seal o' high approval. I don't ask your name, whar you
come from or why you're here, or whar you're goin', but I take you fur a
frien' o' Jim's, an' so just 'bout all right. Now put 'er thar."

He grinned a wide grin and extended a wide palm, into which Will put his
to have it enclosed at once in a grasp so mighty that he was convinced
his first impression about the man being made of steel was correct. He
uttered an exclamation and Giant Tom dropped his hand at once.

"I never do that to a feller more than once," he said, "an' it's always
the first time I meet him. Even then I don't do it 'less I'm sure he's
all right, an' I'm goin' to like 'im. It's jest my way o' puttin' a
stamp on 'im to show that he's passed Tom Bent's ordeal, an' is good fur
the best the world has to offer. Now, William, you're one o' us."

He smiled so engagingly that Will was compelled to laugh, and he felt,
too, that he had a new and powerful friend.

"That's right, laugh," said Giant Tom. "You take it the way a feller
orter, an' you an' me are goin' to be mighty good pards. An' that bein'
settled I want to know from you, Jim Boyd, what are you doin' in my
valley."

"Your valley, Giant! Why, you never saw it before," said the hunter.

"What's that got to do with it? I wuz comin' here an' any place that I'm
goin' to come to out here in the wilderness is mine, o' course."

"Coming here, I suppose, to hunt for gold! And you've been hunting for
it for fifteen years, you've trod along thousands and thousands of miles
and never found a speck of it yet."

The little man laughed joyously.

"That's true," he said. "I've worked years an' years an' I never yet had
a particle o' luck. But a dry spell, no matter how long, is always broke
some time or other by a rain, an' when my luck does come, it's goin' to
bust all over my face. Gold will just rain on me. I'll stand in it
knee-deep an' then shoulder deep, an' then right up to my mouth."

"You haven't changed a bit," said Boyd, grinning also. "You're the same
Giant Tom, a real giant in strength and courage, that I've met off and
on through the years. It's been a long time since I first saw you."

"It was in Californy in '49. I was only fourteen then, but I went out
with my uncle in the first rush. Seventeen years I've hunted the yellow
stuff, in the streams, in the mountains, all up an' down the coast, in
the British territories, an' way back in the Rockies, but I've yet to
see its color. Uncle Pete found some, and when he died he left what
money he had to me. 'Jest you take it an' keep on huntin', Tom, my boy,'
he said. 'Now an' then I think I've seen traces o' impatience in you.
When you'd been lookin' only six or seven years, an' found nothin', I
heard you speak in a tone of disapp'intment, once. Don't you do it
ag'in. That ain't the way things are won. It takes sperrit an' patience
to be victor'us. Hang on to the job you've set fur yourse'f, an' thirty
or forty years from now you'll be shore to reap a full reward, though it
might come sooner.' An' here I am, fresh, strong, only a little past
thirty, and I kin afford to hunt an' wait for my pay 'bout thirty years
more. I've never forgot what Uncle Pete told me just afore he died. A
mighty smart man was Uncle Pete, an' he had my future in mind. Don't you
think so, young William?"

"Of course," replied Will, looking at him in wonder and admiration. "I
don't think a man of your cheerful and patient temperament could
possibly fail."

"And maybe his reward will come much sooner than he thinks," said the
hunter, glancing at the lad.

Will understood what Boyd meant, and he was much taken with the idea.
The Little Giant seemed to be sent by Providence, but he said nothing,
waiting until such time as the hunter thought fit to broach the subject.

"How long have you been here?" asked the Little Giant, looking at the
valley with approving eyes.

"Quite a little while," replied Boyd. "It belonged to us two until a few
minutes ago, but now it belongs to us three. We've been needing a third
man badly, and while I didn't know it, you must have been in my mind
all the time."

"An' what do you happen to need me fur, Jim Boyd?"

"We'll let that wait awhile, at least, until we introduce you to our
home."

"All right. Patience is my strong suit. Do you mean to say you've got a
home here?"

"Certainly."

"Then I'll be your guest until you take me into the pardnership you're
talkin' 'bout. Do you know that you two are the first faces o' human
bein's that I've seen in two months, an' it gives me a kind o' pleasure
to look at you, Jim Boyd, an' young William."

"Come on then to our camp."

He whistled to his two mules, strong, patient animals, and then he
whistled on his own account the gayest and most extraordinary variation
that Will had ever heard, a medley of airs, clear, pure and birdlike,
that would have made the feet of any young man dance to the music. It
expressed cheerfulness, hope and the sheer joy of living.

"You could go on the stage and earn fine pay with that whistling of
yours," said Will, when he finished.

"Others have told me so, too," said the Little Giant, "but I'll never do
it. Do you think I'd forget what Uncle Pete said to me on his dyin' bed,
an' get out o' patience? What's a matter o' twenty or thirty years? I'll
keep on lookin' an' in the end I'll find plenty o' gold as a matter o'
course. Then I won't have to whistle fur a livin'. I'll hire others to
whistle fur me."

"He's got another accomplishment, Will, one that he never brags about,"
said the hunter.

"What is it?"

"I told you once that I was as good a rifle shot as there was in the
West, over a range of a million and a half square miles of mountain and
plain, but I forgot, for a moment, about one exception. That exception
is Giant Tom, here. He has one of the fine repeating rifles like ours,
and whether with that or a muzzle loader he's quicker and surer than any
other."

The face of Giant Tom turned red through his tan.

"See here, Jim Boyd, I'm a modest man, I'm no boaster, don't be telling
wild tales about me to young William. I don't know him yet so well as I
do you, an' I vally his good opinion."

"What I say is true every word of it. If his bullet would only carry
that far he'd pick off a deer at five miles every time, and you needn't
deny it, Giant Tom."

"Well, mebbe thar is some truth in what you say. When the Lord sawed me
off a foot, so I'd hev to look up in the faces o' men whenever I talked
to 'em, He looked at me an' He felt sorry fur the little feller He'd
created. I'll have to make it up to him somehow, He said to Hisself, an'
to he'p me along He give me muscles o' steel, not your cast steel, but
your wrought steel that never breaks, then He put a mockin' bird in my
throat, an' give me eyes like an eagle's an' nerves o' the steadiest.
Last, He give me patience, the knowin' how to wait years an' years fur
what I want, an' lookin' back to it now I think He more than made up fur
the foot He sawed off. Leastways I ain't seen yet the man I want to
change with, not even with you, Jim Boyd, tall as you think you are, nor
with you, young William, for all your red cheeks an' your youth an' your
heart full o' hope, though it ain't any fuller than mine."

"Long but mighty interesting," said Boyd. "Now, you can see our wickiup,
over there in the open. We use it only when it rains. We'll help you
take the packs off your mules and they can go grazing for themselves
with our horses. You are not saying much about it, but I imagine that
you and the mules, too, are pretty nearly worn out."

"Them's good mules, mighty good mules, but them an' me, I don't mind
tellin' it to you, Jim Boyd, won't fight ag'inst restin' an' eatin'
awhile."

"I'll light the fire and warm food for you," said Will. "It's a pleasure
for me to do it. Sit down on the log and before you know it I'll have
ready for you the finest lake trout into which you ever put your teeth."

"Young William, I accept your invite."

Will quickly had his fire going, and he served not only trout, but bear
steaks and hot coffee to the Little Giant, who ate with a tremendous
appetite.

"I've got provisions of my own in my packs," he said, "but sometimes the
other feller's feed tastes a heap better than your own, an' this that
you're offerin' me is, I take it, the cream o' the mountains, young
William. A couple more o' them trout, if you don't mind, four or five
more pounds o' that bear meat, an' a gallon o' coffee, if you've got it
to spare. With them I think I kin make out. How are my mules gettin' on,
Jim?"

"First rate. They've already introduced themselves to the horses, which
have given their names, pedigrees and the stories of their lives. The
mules also have furnished their histories, and, everybody being
satisfied with everybody else's social station and past, they're now
grazing together in perfect friendship, all six of 'em, just beyond that
belt of woodland. And that being the case, I'll now give you the history
of Will and myself, and I'll tell you about the biggest thing that we
expect from the future."

"Go ahead," said the Little Giant, settling himself into a comfortable
position.




CHAPTER IV

THE FLIGHT


Boyd had no mean powers as a narrator. He did not speak at first of
their own immediate search, but alluded to the great belief that gold
was scattered all through the West, although it seldom had a trace or
trail leading to it. Then he spoke of Clarke's father, and what he had
discovered, returning soon afterward to the civil war, in which he had
fallen.

The Little Giant's eyes brightened with the flame of pursuit as the
hunter talked. He who had sought gold for so many years without finding
a particle of it was seeing it now, in pockets, and in almost solid
ledges, beyond anything he had ever dreamed. But when Boyd told of the
officer's death on the battlefield he sighed deeply and his face
clouded.

"That's always the way," he said. "Jest when you've got it, it slips
through your fingers, though I will say to you, young William, that it's
not the lost gold only I'm mournin' 'bout. I'm sorry, too, for the death
of your brave father."

"But, knowing the uncertainties of war, he took thought for the future,"
said Boyd. "He drew a map showing where his great mine is, and it's now
in the possession of his son, Will, who sits before you."

The shadow left the face of the Little Giant, and his eyes glistened as
Will produced the precious map, spreading it before him. After examining
it carefully, he said:

"Ef you fight off many thousand Sioux, run through fifty or a hundred
mountain blizzards, starve a dozen times, freeze twenty times an' stick
to it three or four years you'll git that thar gold."

Then the Little Giant sighed, and his face clouded again--it had perhaps
been years since his face had clouded twice in one day.

"You fellers are in great luck. I wish you well."

"We wish ourselves well," said Boyd, watching him closely.

A sudden thought seemed to occur to the Little Giant and his face
brightened greatly.

"Do you two fellers want a hired man?" he asked.

"What kind of a hired man?" said Boyd.

"A likely feller, not very tall, but strong an' with a willin' heart,
handy with spade an' shovel, understandin' hosses an' mules, an' able to
whistle fur you gay an' lively tunes in the evenin', when you're all
tired out from the day's work in the richest mine in the world."

"No, we don't want any hired man."

"Not even the kind I'm tellin' you 'bout?"

"Not even that, nor any other."

"An' both o' you hev got your minds plum' made up 'bout it?"

"Plumb made up."

The Little Giant's face fell for the third time in one day, an absolute
record for him.

"I reckon thar ain't no more to say," he said.

Boyd was still watching him closely, but now his look was one of
sympathy.

"We don't want any hired man," he said. "We've no use for hired men, but
we do want something."

"What's that, Jim Boyd?"

"We want a partner."

"Why, each of you has got one. You hev young William and young William
hez you."

"Well, young William and me have talked about this some, not much, but
we came straight to the point. For such a big hunt as ours, through
dangers piled on dangers, we need a third man, one that's got a strong
heart and a cheerful soul, one that can shoot straighter than anybody
else in the world, one whose picture, if I could take it, would be the
exact picture of you, Tom Bent."

"But I ain't done nothin' to come in as a pardner."

"Neither did I, but Will took me in as a guide, hunter and fighting man.
Don't you understand, Giant, that to get the Clarke gold we'll have to
pay the price? We'll have to fight and fight, and we'll have to risk our
lives a thousand times apiece. Why, in a case like this, you're worth a
cool hundred thousand dollars."

"Then I come in fur a tenth--ef we git it."

"You come in for the same share as the rest, share and share alike, but
I will say this to you, Little Giant, that we expect you to do the most
tremendous fighting the world has ever seen, we expect you to wipe out
whole bands of Sioux and Blackfeet by yourself while Will and me stand
by and rest, and, after it's all over, we expect you to sit down and
whistle an hour or two, until you soothe us to sleep."

"Then, on them conditions I come in as a full pardner," said Giant Tom,
and he grinned with pleasure, the most amazing grin that Will had ever
seen. It spread slowly across his face, until the great crack seemed to
reach almost to each ear, revealing a splendid set of powerful white
teeth, without a flaw. Above the chasm two large blue eyes glistened and
glowed with delight. It was all so infectious, so contagious that both
Will and Boyd grinned in return. They were not only securing for a
perilous quest a man who was beyond compare, but they were also giving
the most exquisite mental pleasure to a likable human being.

"It shorely does look," said the Little Giant, "ez ef my luck wuz goin'
to hev a turn. At any rate, I'll be with you boys, in the best company
I've had fur years."

"You and the mules rest a day," said Boyd, "and then we'll be off. We'll
keep to the mountains for a while, and then we'll curve back to the
plains, where we'll take up the line laid down on the map, and where the
going is easier. Maybe we can dodge the Sioux."

The Little Giant made his bed under one of the trees, and he slept very
soundly that night, eating prodigiously in the morning. The three were
discussing the advisability of leaving at once or of waiting until the
dusk for departure, when Will, happening to look toward the east, saw
what he took at first to be a tiny cloud in the clear blue sky. He
carried his glasses over his shoulders, and he raised them at once. The
hunter and the Little Giant had noticed his act.

"What is it, Will?" asked Boyd anxiously.

"Smoke! A big puff of it!"

"And it came from the top of that mountain to the east of the valley."

"It rose straight and fast, as if it had been sent up by some human
agency."

"And so it was. It's a signal!"

"Indians!"

"Yes, Will."

"What does it mean?"

"It means 'Attention, watch!' They've got a code almost as complete as
that of our armies when they use the signal flags. Look at that other
crest off to the north. Maybe an answer will come from it."

"There _is_ an answer. I can see it rising now from the very place you
indicate, Jim. What does the answer signify?"

"I can see it now with the naked eye. It merely says to the first, 'I've
seen you, I'm waiting. Go ahead.' Look back to the other crest."

"Two smokes are now going up there."

"They say 'Come.' It's two bands wanting to meet. Now, the other place."

"Three smokes there."

"Three means, 'We come.'"

"Now back to the other."

"Four smokes."

"Which says in good, plain English, 'We are following the enemy.' That
settles it. They've found out, some way or other, that we're here, and
the two bands mean to meet and capture or destroy us. They never
suspected that we could read their writing against the sky. We don't
wait until tonight. We leave as soon as we can get our packs on our
horses and mules."

"I'd like to make a suggestion first," said the Little Giant with some
diffidence.

"What is it?" asked Boyd.

"Suppose we stay an' have a crack at 'em before we go, jest kinder to
temper their zeal a little. I'd like to show young William that I kin
really shoot, an' sorter live up to the braggin' you've been doin'."

"No, you ferocious little man-killer. We can't think of it. We'd have a
hundred Sioux warriors on our heels in no time. Now hustle, you two!
Pack faster than you ever packed before, and we'll start inside of two
hours. Do you see any more smokes, Will?"

"No, the sky is now without a blemish."

"Which means they've talked enough and now they're traveling straight
toward our valley. It's lucky they've got such rough country to cross
before they reach us."

Inside the two hours they were headed for the western end of the valley,
the Little Giant riding one of his mules, the other following. The
wickiup was abandoned, but they brought much of the jerked meat with
them, thinking wisely of their commissariat.

It was with genuine regret that Will looked back from his saddle upon
Clarke Valley and Boyd Lake, shimmering and beautiful now in the
opalescent sunshine. They had found peace and plenty there. It was a
good place in which to live, if wild men would let one alone, and,
loving solitude at times, he could have stayed there several weeks
longer in perfect content. He caught the last gleam of the lake as they
entered the pass. It had the deep sheen of melted silver, as the waters
moved before the slow wind, and he sighed a little when a curve of the
cliff cut it wholly from view.

"Never mind, young William," said the Little Giant, "you'll see other
lakes and other valleys as fine, an' this wouldn't look so beautiful,
after all, tomorrow, filled with ragin' Sioux huntin' our ha'r right
whar it grows, squar' on top o' our heads."

Young Clarke laughed and threw off his melancholy.

"You're right," he said briskly. "The lake wouldn't look very beautiful
if a half dozen Sioux were shooting at me. You came through this pass,
now tell us what kind of a place it is."

"We ride along by the creek, an' sometimes the ledge is jest wide enough
fur the horses an' mules. We go on that way four or five miles, provided
we don't fall down the cliff into the creek an' bust ourselves apart.
Then, ag'in, purvided we're still livin', we come out into a valley,
narrow but steep, the water rushin' down it in rapids like somethin'
mad. Then we keep on down the valley with our hosses lookin' ez ef they
wuz walkin' on their heads, an' in four or five miles more, purvided, o'
course, once more that we ain't been busted apart by falls, we come out
into some woods. These woods are cut by gulleys an' ravines an' they
have stony outcrops, but they'll look good by the side o' what you hev
passed through."

"Encouraging, Giant!" laughed Will. "But hard as all this will be for us
to pass over, it will be just as hard for the Sioux, our pursuers."

"Young William," said the Little Giant approvingly, "I like to hear you
talk that way. It shows that you hev all the makin's o' them opty-mists,
the bunch o' people to which I belong. I never heard that word till
three or four years ago, when I wuz listenin' to a preacher in a minin'
camp, an' it kinder appealed to me. So I reckoned I would try to live up
to it an' make o' myself a real opty-mist. I been workin' hard at it
ever sence, an' I think I'm qualifyin'."

"You're right at the head of the class, that's where you are, Giant,"
said Boyd heartily. "You've already earned a thousand dollars out of the
mine that we're going to find, you with your whistling and cheerfulness
bracing us up so that we're ready to meet anything."

"What's the use o' bein' an opty-mist ef you don't optymize?" asked the
Little Giant, coining a word for himself. "Now, ain't this a nice,
narrow pass? You kin see the water in the creek down thar, 'bout two
hundred feet below, a-rushin' an' a-roarin' over the stones, an' then
you look up an' see the cliff risin' five or six hundred feet over your
head, an' here you are betwixt an' between, on a shelf less'n three feet
broad, jest givin' room enough fur the horses an' mules an' ourselves,
all so trim an' cosy, everythin' fittin' close an' tight in its place."

"It's a lot too close and tight for me, Giant!" exclaimed Will. "I've a
terrible fear that I'll go tumbling off the path and into the creek two
hundred feet below."

"Oh, no, you won't, young William. The people who fall off cliffs are
mighty few compared with them that git skeered 'bout it. Ef you feel
a-tall dizzy, jest ketch holt o' the tail o' that rear mule o' mine. He
won't kick, an' he won't mind it, a-tall, a-tall. Instead o' that it'll
give him a kind o' home-like feelin', bein' ez I've hung on to his tail
myself so many times when we wuz goin' along paths not more'n three
inches wide in the mountain side. You won't bother or upset him. The
biggest cannon that wuz ever forged couldn't blast him out o' the path."

Thus encouraged, young Clarke seized the tail of the mule, which plodded
unconcernedly on, and for the rest of the distance along the dizzying
heights he felt secure. Nevertheless his relief was great when they
emerged into the rough valley of which the Little Giant had spoken, and
yet more when, still pressing on, they came to the rocky and hilly
forest. Here they were all exhausted, animals and human beings alike,
and they stopped a long time in the shade of the trees.

At that point there was no sign of the valley from which they had fled,
unless one could infer its existence from the creek that flowed by.
Looking back, Will saw nothing but a mass of forest and mountain, and
then looking back a second time he saw rings of smoke rising from points
which he knew must be in their valley. He examined and counted them
through his glasses and described them to the hunter and the Little
Giant.

"The Sioux have come down and invaded our pleasant home," said Boyd.
"There's no doubt about it, and I can make a good guess that they're mad
clean through, because they found us gone. They may be signaling now to
another band to come up, and then they'll give chase. You've got to
know, Will, that nothing will make the Sioux pursue like the prospect of
scalps, white scalps. A Sioux warrior would be perfectly willing to go
on a month's trail if he found a white scalp at the end of it."

"They'll naturally think that we'll turn off toward the south so as to
hit the plains ez soon ez we kin," said the Little Giant.

"And for that reason, you think we should turn to the north instead, and
go deeper into the mountains?" said Boyd.

"'Pears sound reasonin' to me."

"Then we'll do it."

"But we don't go fur, leastways not today. It wouldn't be more'n two or
three hours till night anyhow, an' see them clouds in thar to the south,
all thickenin' up. We're going to hev rain on the mountains, an' I think
we'd better make another wickiup, ez one o' them terrible sleets may
come on."

Boyd and Will agreed with him and a mile farther they found a place that
they considered suitable, an opening in which they would not be exposed
to any tree blown down by a blizzard, but with a heavy growth of short
pines near by, among which the horses and mules might find shelter.
Then the three worked with amazing speed, and by the time the full dark
had come the wickiup was done, the skins that they had brought with them
being stretched tightly over the poles. Then, munching their cold food,
they crawled in and coiled themselves about the walls, wrapped deep in
their blankets. Contrary to the Indian custom, they left the low door
open for air, and just when Will felt himself well disposed for the
night he heard the first patter of the sleet.

It was almost pitch dark in the wickiup, but, through the opening, he
could see the hail beating upon the earth in streams of white. The old
feeling of comfort and security in face of the wildest that the
wilderness had to offer returned to him. When they reached Clarke Valley
and built their wickiup he had one powerful friend, but now when the
Sioux were once more in pursuit, he had two. The Little Giant had made
upon him an ineffaceable impression of courage, skill and loyalty that
would stand any test.

"The hail's goin' to drive all through the night," Giant Tom called out
in the darkness.

"Right you are," said the hunter, "and the Sioux won't think of trying
that pass on such a night. They're back in the valley, in wickiups of
their own."

"Might it not stop them entirely?" asked Will.

"No, young William, it won't," said the Little Giant. "They'll come
through the pass tomorrow, knowin' thar's only one way by which we kin
go, an' then try to pick up our trail when the sleet melts. But tonight,
at least, nobody's goin' to find us."

They slept late the next morning, and when they crawled out of the
wickiup they found the sleet packed about an inch deep on the ground.
The horses and mules, protected by the pines, had not suffered much,
and, in order that their trail might be hidden by the melting sleet,
they packed and departed before breakfast, choosing a northwesterly
direction. They picked the best ground, but it was all rough.
Nevertheless the three were cheerful, and the Little Giant whistled like
a nightingale.

"Ef I remember right," he said, "we'll soon be descendin', droppin' down
fast so to speak, an' then the weather will grow a heap warmer. The
sun's out now, though, an' by noon anyway all the sleet will be gone,
which will help us a lot."

They had been walking most of the time, allowing their animals to
follow, which both horses and mules did, not only through long training
but because they had become used to the companionship of men. The three
might have abandoned them, escaping pursuit in the almost inaccessible
mazes of the mountains, but no such thought entered their minds. The
horses and mules not only carried their supplies, chief among which
being the ammunition, but also the tools with which to work the mine,
and then, in Will's mind at least, they and more of them would be needed
to bring back to civilization the tons of gold.

They were now in a fairly level, though narrow, valley, and all three of
them were riding. Once more they saw far behind them smoke signals
rising, and Boyd felt sure that the Sioux somehow had blundered upon
the trail anew. Then he and the Little Giant spoke together earnestly.

"The longest way 'roun' is sometimes the shortest way through," said
Giant Tom. "It's no plains for us, not fur many days to come. I'm
thinkin' that what we've got to do is to keep on goin' deeper an' deeper
into the mountains, an' higher an' higher, too, plum' up among them
glaciers, whar the Sioux won't keer to foller. Then, when we winter a
while thar we kin turn back toward the plains an' our search."

"Looks like good reasoning to me," said Boyd. "As I told the boy here,
once, we're richer in time than anything else. We must make for the
heights. What say you, Will?"

"I'm learning patience," replied the lad. "It's better to wait than to
spill all the beans at once. Let's head straight for the glaciers."

Will felt that there was something terrible about the Sioux pursuit. He
was beginning to realize to the full the power of Indian tenacity, and
he was anxious to shake off the warriors, no matter how high they had to
go. He knew nothing of the region about them, but he had heard that
mountains in many portions of the West rose to a height of nearly three
miles. He could well believe it, as he looked north and south to
tremendous peaks with white domes, standing like vast, silent sentinels
in the sky. They were majestic to him, but not terrifying, because they
held out the promise of safety.

"If the worst came to the worst, could we live up there on one of those
slopes, a while?" he asked.

"Do you mean by that could we find game enough?" said Boyd.

"Game and shelter both."

"We could. Like as not the mountain deer are plentiful. And there's a
kind of buffalo called the wood bison, even bigger than the regular
buffalo of the plains, not often found south of Canada, but to be met
with now and then in our country. We might run across one of them, and
he'd supply meat enough to feed an army. Besides, there are bears and
deer and smaller game. Oh, we'd make out, wouldn't we, Tom?"

"We shorely would," replied the Little Giant, "but between you an' me
an' the gate post, Jim, I think I see somethin' movin' on the slope
acrost thar to the right. Young William, take your glasses an' study
that spot whar the bushes are so thick."

"I can just barely make out the figures of men among the bushes,"
announced Will, after a good look.

"Then they're Indians," said Boyd with emphasis. "You wouldn't find
white men lurking here in the undergrowth. It's a fresh band, hunters
maybe, but dangerous just the same. We'd better push on for all we're
worth."

They urged forward the horses and mules, seeking cover in the deep
forest along the slope, but without success, as a faint yell soon told
them. At the suggestion of Boyd, they stopped and examined the ground.
The way was steadily growing steeper and more difficult, and the
warriors, who were on foot could make greater speed than the fugitives.

"Lend me your glasses a minute, young William," said the Little Giant.

But he did not turn the lenses upon the Indians. Instead, he looked
upward.

"Thar's a narrow pass not fur ahead," he said. "I think we'd better draw
into it an' make a stand. The pass is deep, an' they can't assail us on
either flank. It will have to be a straight-away attack."

"That's lucky, mighty lucky," said Boyd with heartfelt thankfulness.
"Will, you push on with the animals, and maybe if you look back you'll
see that what I told you about Giant Tom's sharpshooting is true."

Will hurried the horses and mules ahead, following a shallow dip that
was the outlet of the deep pass they were seeking. Behind them he heard
again the yells of the Indian warriors, hopeful now of an unexpected
triumph. He saw their figures emerging from cover and he judged that
they were at least twenty in number. He saw also that the Little Giant
had stopped and was looking at the pursuers with a speculative eye,
while his repeating rifle lay easily in the hollow of his arm. Then he
urged the animals on and presently he looked back a second time.

He was just in time to see the breech of the rifle leap to the Little
Giant's shoulder. "Leap" was the only word to describe it, his action
was so swift and so little time did he waste in taking aim. It all
passed in an instant, as he pulled the trigger, and the foremost Indian
far down the slope threw up his arms, falling backward without a cry. In
another instant he pulled the trigger again and another Indian fell
beside the first. The whole band stopped, uttered a tremendous cry of
rage, and then darted into the undergrowth for cover.

"Two," said Boyd. "Didn't I tell you, Will, that he was a wonder with
the rifle?"

"I had to do it. I call you both to witness that I had to do it," said
the Little Giant in a melancholy voice. "I'm a hunter o' gold an' not
properly a killer o' men, even o' savage men. An' yet I find no gold,
but I do kill. Sometimes I'm sorry that I happened to be born jest a
natcherly good shot. I reckon we'd better whoop up our speed ez much ez
we kin now, 'cause after that lesson they'll hang back a while afore
follerin'."

"That's good generalship," said Boyd.

Will was already urging forward the animals, which, frightened by the
shots, were making speed of their own accord toward the pass. The hunter
and the Little Giant followed at a more leisurely gait, with their
rifles ready to beat off pursuit. Some shots were fired from the bushes,
but they fell short, and the two laughed in disdain.

"They'll have to do a lot better than that, won't they, Giant?" said the
hunter.

"A powerful sight better, but they'll hope to slip up on us in the dark.
It hurts my feelin's to hev to shoot any more of 'em, or to shoot
anybody, but I'm afeard I'll hev to do it, Jim Boyd, afore we git
through with this here piece o' business."

"In that case, Giant, just let your feelings go and shoot your best."

Will still led on, and, though his heart beat as hard as ever, it was
more from the exertion of climbing than from apprehension. He had seen
the two wonderful shots of the Little Giant, he knew what a wonderful
marksman Boyd was also, and he felt since they were within the shelter
of the pass, their three rifles might keep off any number of Sioux.

The shallow gully up which they were travelling now narrowed rapidly,
and soon they were deep in the looming shadow of the pass, which seemed
to end blindly farther on. But for the present it was a Heaven-sent
refuge. At one point, where it widened somewhat, the horses and mules
could stand, and there was even a little grass for them. A rill of water
from the high rocks was a protection against what they had to fear most
of all, thirst, and the three human beings in turn drank freely from it,
letting the animals follow.

Boyd deftly tethered the horses and mules to bushes that grew at the
foot of the cliff in the wide space, and then he joined the other two,
who, lying almost flat, were watching at the entrance to the pass. The
rocks there also gave them fine protection, and they felt they had
reached a fort which would test all the ingenuity, patience and courage
of the Sioux.

Will drew back behind a stony upthrust, sat up and used his glasses,
searching everywhere among the rocks and bushes down the pass.

"What do you see, Young William?" asked the Little Giant.

"Nothing yet, Tom, except the bushes, the stones and the slopes of the
mountains far across the valley."

"Nor you won't see nothin' fur some time. Took to cover, they hev. An' I
don't blame 'em, either. We wouldn't be anxious ourselves to walk up
ag'inst the mouths o' rifles that don't miss, an' Indians, bein' smart
people, don't risk their lives when thar's nothin' to be gained."

"Then how are they going to get at us?"

"Not straight-away, but by means o' tricks."

"What tricks?"

"I don't know. Ef they wuz so plain ez all that they wouldn't be tricks.
We'll hev to be patient."

All three of them drew back into the mouth of the pass, where they found
abundant shelter behind the stony outcrops, while the Sioux, who lay
hidden in the undergrowth farther down the slope, would be compelled to
advance over open ground, if they made a rush. Young Clarke's confidence
grew. That wonderful sharpshooting feat of the Little Giant was still in
his mind. In such a position and with such marksmen as Boyd and Bent,
they could not be overwhelmed.

"Take them glasses o' yourn, young William," said the Little Giant, "an'
see ef you can pick out any o' the Sioux down the slope."

Will was able to trace three or four warriors lying down among the short
cedars, apparently waiting with illimitable patience for any good idea
that might suggest itself. The others, though out of sight, were
certainly near and he was wondering what plan might occur to them.

"Do you think it likely that they know the pass?" he asked Boyd.

"Hardly," replied the hunter. "They are mountain Sioux, but on the whole
they prefer the plains."

"Maybe they think then that they can wait, or at least hold us until we
are overcome by thirst!"

"No, the little stream of water breaks a way down the slope somewhere,
and when they find it they'll know that it comes from the pass. I think
they'll attack, but just how and when is more'n I can say. Now, Will,
will you go back where the animals are and cook us a good supper,
including coffee? When you're besieged it's best to keep yourself well
fed and strong. I saw plenty of dead wood there, tumbled from the cliffs
above."

Young Clarke, knowing that he was not needed now at the mouth of the
pass, was more than glad to undertake the task, since waiting was hard
work.

He found the horses and mules lying down, and they regarded him with
large, contemplative eyes as he lighted the fire and began to cook
supper. The animals were on the best of terms, constituting a happy
family, and the eyes with which they regarded Will seemed to him to be
the eyes of wisdom.

"Shall we get safely out of this?" he asked, addressing himself to the
animal circle.

Either it was fact, or his imagination was uncommonly lively, as he saw
six large heads nod slowly and with dignity, but with emphasis.

"All of us?"

The six heads again moved slowly and with dignity.

"And with you, our faithful four-footed friends, and with the packs that
are so needful to us?"

The six heads nodded a little faster, but with the same dignity. Will
was just putting the coffee on to boil when he asked the last question
and received the last answer, and he stopped for a moment to stare at
the six animals, which were still regarding him with their large,
contemplative eyes. Could he refuse to believe what he thought he saw?
If fancy were not fact it often became fact a little later. Those were
certainly honest beasts and he knew by experience that they were
truthful, too, because he had never yet caught them in a lie. Animals
did not know how to lie, wherein they were different from human beings,
and while human beings were not prophets, at least in modern times,
animals, for all he knew, might be, and he certainly intended to believe
that the six, for the present, enjoyed the prophetic afflatus.

"I accept the omens as you give them," he said aloud. "From this moment
I dismiss from my mind all doubt concerning the present affair."

Then he found himself believing his own words. The omens continued to be
favorable. The coffee boiled with uncommon readiness and the strips of
venison that he fried over the coals gave forth an aroma of unparalleled
richness. Filling two large tin cups with the brown fluid he carried
them to the watchers at the mouth of the pass, who drained them, each at
a single draught.

"Best you ever made, Will," said Boyd.

"Ez good ez anybody ever made, young William," said the Little Giant.

"Now I'll bring you strips of venison and crackers," said Will, much
pleased, "and after you've eaten them you can have another cup of coffee
apiece."

His little task, his success at it, and the praise of his comrades
cheered him wonderfully. When he had taken them the second cups of
coffee and had also served himself, he put out the coals, picked up his
rifle and rejoined the others. The first faint breath of the twilight
was appearing over the mountains. The great ridges and peaks were
growing dim and afar the wind of night was moaning.

"It'll be dark soon," said the Little Giant, "an' then we'll hev to
watch with all our eyes an' all our ears. Onless the Sioux attack under
kiver o' the night they won't attack at all."

"They'll come. Don't you worry about that, Tom," said Boyd. "The Sioux
are as brave fighters as any that tread the earth, and they want our
scalps bad, particularly yours. If I was an Indian and loved scalps as
they do, I'd never rest until I got yours. The hair is so thick and it
stands up so much, I'd give it a place of honor in my tepee, and
whenever my warrior friends came in for a sociable evening's talk I'd
tell 'em how I defeated you in battle and took your scalp, which is the
king scalp."

"It's a comply-ment you make me to call my scalp the king scalp, but no
Indian will ever take it. Do you see something stirring down thar 'mong
the little cedars? Young William, them glasses o' yourn a minute or
two."

He made a careful study with the glasses, and, when he handed them back,
he announced:

"They're movin' 'mong the cedars. I made out at least a half dozen thar.
Ez soon ez it's good an' dark they're goin' to try to creep up on us.
Well, let 'em. We kin see pretty nigh ez good in the dark ez in the
light, can't we, Jim Boyd?"

"I reckon we can see good enough, Giant, to draw a bead on anything that
comes creeping, creeping after our hair."

Again Will felt pride that he was associated with two such formidable
champions of the wild, but he did not let pride keep him from selecting
a good high stony outcrop behind which he lay with his rifle ready and
his revolver loose in his belt. Now and then, however, he held his rifle
in only one hand and used the glasses so valuable to him, and which he
was beginning to prize so highly.

Much time passed, however, and it passed slowly. Young Clarke realized
that the other name for the Sioux was patience, but it was hard on his
nerves, nevertheless. He wanted to talk, he longed to ask questions of
the two borderers, but his will kept him from doing so. He was resolved
not to appear nervous or garrulous at such a time.

The night deepened. The twilight had passed long since. Many of the
stars did not come out and heavy waves of dusk rolled up the valley. The
slopes of the opposite mountain became invisible, nor did Will see the
dwarf cedars in which his glasses told him a portion of the Sioux band
had lain hidden.

The time was so long that his muscles felt stiff and sore, and he
stretched arms and legs vigorously to restore the circulation. Moreover
the elevation was so great that it was growing quite cold in the pass,
and he became eager for the warriors to attack if they were going to
attack at all. But he remembered the saying that patience was only
another name for Sioux and steeled his heart to endure.

The three were lying close together, all behind rocky upthrusts, and
after a space that seemed a thousand years or so to Will the Little
Giant edged toward him and whispered:

"Young William, you wouldn't mind lendin' me them glasses o' yourn once
more?"

"As often as you like, Giant."

"Hand 'em over, then. Even ef it's night they've got a way o' cuttin'
through the dark, an' I feel it's 'bout time now fur the Sioux to be
comin'. They like to jump on an unsuspectin' foe 'bout midnight."

He took an unusually long look and handed the glasses back to Will. Then
he whispered to both the lad and the hunter:

"I could make 'em out snakin' theirselves up the pass nigh flat on the
rock."

"They hope to get so near in the dark that they can spring up and rush
us."

"I reckon that's jest 'bout thar game, but them glasses o' young
William's hev done give them away already. The Sioux hev fixed
everythin' mighty careful, an' jest one thing that chance hez give us,
young William's glasses, is goin' to upset 'em. Take a look, Jim."

"I can see 'em, so many dark spots moving, always moving up the pass
and making no noise at all. Now, Will, you look, and after that we'll
make ready with the rifles."

Will through the glasses saw them quite plainly now, more than a score
of dark figures, advancing slowly but quite steadily. He threw the
glasses over his shoulder and took up his rifle with both hands.

"Not yet, young William," said the Little Giant. "We don't want to waste
any bullets, and so we'll wait until Jim gives the word. Ev'ry army
needs a leader. Thar ain't but three in this army, but it hez to hev a
leader jest the same and Jim Boyd is the man."

Will waited motionless, but he could not keep his heart from beating
hard, as the Sioux, ruthless and bold, came forward silently to the
attack. He did not have the infinite wilderness experience of the older
two which had hardened them to every form of danger, and his imagination
was alive and leaping. The dusky forms which he could now faintly see
with the naked eye were increased by fancy threefold and four, and his
eager finger slipped to the trigger of his rifle. He was sure they ought
to fire now. The Sioux were certainly near enough! If they came any
closer before meeting the bullets of the defense they would have a good
chance to spring up and make a victorious rush. But the word to fire did
not come. He glanced at their leader, and Boyd was still calmly
watching.

The three lay very close together, and Will heard the hunter whisper to
the Little Giant:

"How much nearer do you think I ought to let 'em come, Tom?"

"'Bout ten feet more, I reckon, Jim. Then though it's night, thar would
be no chance fur a feller to miss, onless he shet his eyes, an' we want
all our bullets to hit. Indians, even the bravest, don't like to rush
riflemen that are ez good ez a batt'ry. Ef we strike 'em mighty hard the
first time they'll fall back on tricks an' waitin'."

"Good sound reasoning, Tom. You hear, Will. Be sure you don't miss."

"I won't," replied the lad. Nevertheless those ten minutes, every one of
them, had a way of spinning themselves out in such an extraordinary
manner that his nerves began to jump again, and it required a great
effort of the will to keep them quiet. The black shadows were
approaching. They had passed over a stretch of rough ground that he had
marked four or five minutes before, and the outlines of the figures were
growing more distinct. He chose one on the extreme right for his aim. He
could not yet see his features, of course, but he was quite certain that
they were ugly and that the man was a warrior wicked beyond belief.
Before he could fire upon anyone from ambush it was necessary for him to
believe the man at whom he aimed to be utterly depraved, and the
situation created at once such a belief in his mind.

He kept his eye steadily upon the ugly and wicked warrior, and as he
watched for his chance and awaited the word from Boyd all scruples about
firing disappeared from his mind. It was that warrior's life or his, and
the law of self-preservation controlled. Nearer and yet nearer they came
and the time had grown interminable when the hunter suddenly said in a
low voice:

"Fire!"

Young Clarke pulled the trigger with a sure aim. He saw the hideous
warrior draw himself into a bunch that sprang convulsively upward, but
which, when it fell, lay back, outspread and quiet. Then he fired at a
second figure, but he was not sure that he hit. The hunter and the
Little Giant were already sending in their third and fourth bullets,
with deadly aim, Will was sure, and the Sioux, after one mighty yell,
wrenched from them by rage, surprise and fear, were fleeing down the
pass under the fierce hail from the repeating rifles.

In a half minute all the shadows, save those outlined darkly on the
ground, were gone, and there was complete and utter silence, while the
light smoke from the rifles drifted about aimlessly, there being no
wind. The three did not speak, but slipping in fresh cartridges
continued to gaze down the pass. Then Will heard a wild, shrill scream
behind him that made him leap a foot from the ground, and that set all
his nerves trembling. The next moment he was laughing at himself. One of
the horses had neighed in terror at the firing, and there are few things
more terrifying than the terrified shriek of a horse.

"Maybe you'd better go back and see 'em, Will," said Boyd. "They may
need quieting. I've noticed that you've a gentle hand with horses, and
that they like you."

"And mules too," said the Little Giant. "Mine hev already taken a fancy
for young William. But mules are much abused critters. You treat 'em
well an' they'll treat you well, which is true of all tame animals."

Young Clarke suspected that they were sending him back to steady his own
nerves as well as those of the animals after such a fierce encounter,
but if so he was glad they had the thought. He was willing enough to go.

"Nothing will happen while you're gone," said Boyd cheerfully. "The
Sioux, of course, would try to rush us again if they knew you were away,
but they won't know it."

Will crawled until he came to a curve of the cliff that would hide him
from any hidden Indian marksman, and then he rose to his feet, glad that
he was able to stand upright. He found the horses and mules walking
about uneasily at the ends of their lariats, but a few consoling strokes
from him upon their manes quieted all of them, and, if they found
comfort in his presence, he also found comfort in theirs.

Then he kneeled and drank at the rill, as if he had been parching in a
desert for days.




CHAPTER V

THE WHITE DOME


The tide of cool water restored Will's nerves. After drinking he bathed
his face in it, and then poured it over his neck. Good as he knew water
to be he had never known that it could be so very good. It was in truth
the wine of life. He shook out his thick hair, wet from the rill, and
said triumphantly and aloud to the animals:

"We beat 'em back, Jim Boyd, the Little Giant and me, and we can do it
again. We beat back a whole band of the Sioux nation, and we defy 'em to
come on again. And you predicted it, all six of you! And you predict
that we'll do it a second time, don't you?"

He was in a state of great spiritual exaltation, seeing things that
others might not have seen, and he distinctly saw the six wise heads of
the brutes, dumb but knowing so much, nod in affirmation.

"I accept the omen!" he said, some old scrap of Latin translation coming
into his mind, "and await the future with absolute confidence!"

The horses and mules, stirred at first by the shots, and then not
caring, perhaps, to rest, began to graze. All sign of alarm was gone
from them and Will's heart resumed its normal beat. He listened
attentively, but no sound came from the pass where his comrades, those
deadly sharpshooters, watched. Far overhead the cliffs towered, and over
them a sky darkly blue. He looked at it a little while, and then went
back to the pass.

He had left his glasses with them, and they had not been able to
discover anything suspicious.

"They won't come again into the mouth of the pass," said Boyd with
confidence. "That rush cost 'em too much. They'll spend a long time
thinking up some sort of trick, and that being the case you go now,
Giant, and have a drink at the stream, and pour water over your head and
face as Will has done."

"So I will, Jim. I'm noticing that young William has a lot o' sense, an'
after I've 'tended to myself fine I'll come back, an' you kin do ez much
fur yourself. A good bathin' o' your face won't hurt your beauty, Jim."

He was gone a half hour, not hurrying back, because he felt there was no
need to do so. Meanwhile Will lay behind his rock and watched the dusky
pass. Wisps of vapor and thin clouds were floating across the heavens,
hiding some of the stars, and the light was not as good as it had been
earlier in the night, but constant use and habit enable one to see
through the shadows, and he also had the glasses to fall back upon. But
even with their aid he could discern nothing save the stony steep.

"They won't come again, not that way, as I told you before," said Boyd,
when young Clarke put down his glasses after the tenth searching look.
"When they made the rush they expected to have a warrior or two hit, but
they didn't know the greatest marksman in all the world, the Little
Giant, was here waiting for 'em, and if I do say it myself, I'm as good
with the rifle as anybody in the west, except Tom, and you're 'way above
the average too, Will. No, they've had enough of charging, but I wish to
heaven I knew what wicked trick they're thinking out now."

The Little Giant returned, bathed, refreshed and joyous.

"Your turn now, Jim," he said, "an' you soak your head an' face good in
the water. Don't dodge it because you think thar ain't plenty o' water,
'cause thar is. It keeps on a-runnin' an' a-runnin', an' it never runs
out. Stay ez long ez you want to, 'cause young William an' me kin hold
the pass ag'inst all the confederated tribes o' the Sioux nation, an'
the Crows an' the Cheyennes an' the Blackfeet throwed in."

Boyd departed and presently he too returned, strengthened anew for any
task.

"Now, Will," he said, "you being the youngest, and it's only because
you're the youngest, you'd better go back there where the horses and
mules are. They've got over their fright and are taking their rest
again. They appear to like you, to look upon you as a kind of comrade,
and I think it's about time you took a bit of rest with them."

"But don't hev a nightmare an' kick one o' my mules," said the Little
Giant, "'cause the best tempered mule in the world is likely to kick
back ag'in."

Will smiled. He knew their raillery was meant to cheer him up, because
of his inexperience, and their desperate situation. He recognized, too,
that it would be better for him to sleep if he could, as they were more
than sufficient to guard the pass.

"All right," he said. "I obey orders."

"Good night to you," said the hunter.

"Good night," said the Little Giant, "an' remember not to kick one o' my
mules in your sleep."

"I won't," replied Will, cheerfully, as he went around the curve of the
wall.

He found the horses and mules at rest, and everything very quiet and
peaceful in the alcove. The rill murmured a little in its stony bed,
and, far overhead, he heard the wind sighing among the trees on the
mountain. He chose a place close to the wall, spread two blankets there,
on which he expected to lie, and prepared to cover himself with two
more. He realized now that he was tired to the bone, but it was not a
nervous weariness and sleep would cure it almost at once.

He was arranging the two blankets that were to cover him, when he heard
a rumbling noise far over his head. At first he thought it was distant
thunder echoing along the ridges, but the wisps of cloud were too light
and thin to indicate any storm. He saw the horses and mules rise in
alarm, and then not one but several of them gave out shrill and terrible
neighs of terror, a volume of frightened sound that made young Clarke's
heart stand still for a moment.

The sound which was not that of thunder, but of something rolling and
crashing, increased with terrific rapidity, stopped abruptly for a
moment or two and then a huge dark object shooting down in front of his
eyes, struck the ground with mighty impact. It seemed to him that the
earth trembled. He sprang back several feet and all the horses and
mules, rearing in alarm, crouched against the cliff.

A great bowlder lay partly buried. It had rolled from the edge of the
cliff high above, and he divined at once that the Sioux had made it
roll. They had climbed the stony mountains enclosing the defile, and
were opening a bombardment, necessarily at random, but nevertheless
terrible in its nature. While he hesitated, not knowing what to do, a
second bowlder thundered, bounded and crashed into the chasm. But it
struck much farther away.

The Little Giant came running at the sound, leaving Boyd on guard at the
mouth of the pass, and as he arrived a third rock struck, though, like
the second, at a distance, and he knew without any words from Will, what
the Sioux were now trying to do. As he looked up, a fourth crashed down,
and it fell very near.

"So that's thar trick?" exclaimed the Little Giant. "Simple ez you
please, but ez dang'rous ez a batt'ry o' cannon. Look out, young
William, thar's another."

It struck so close to Will that he felt the shock and ran back to the
shelter of the overhanging cliff, where, driven by instinct, the horses
and mules were already crowding. Nor did the Little Giant, brave as he
was, hesitate to follow him.

"When you're shot at out o' the sky," he said, "the best thing to do is
to go into hidin'. One ain't wholly under cover here, but it ud be a
long chance ef any o' them rocks got us."

"What about Jim, watching at the mouth of the pass?"

"He won't stir until he hears from me. He'll set thar, unmoved, with his
rifle ready, waitin' fur the Sioux jest ez ef he expected them to come.
I'll slip back an' tell him to keep on waitin', also what's goin' on in
here."

"Skip fast then! Look out! That barely missed you! They're sending the
rocks down in showers now."

The Little Giant, as agile as a greyhound, vanished around the curve,
and Will instinctively crowded himself closely and more closely against
the stone wall while the dangerous bombardment went on. The animals,
their instinct still guiding them, were doing the same, and Boyd's brave
Selim, which was next to him, reached out his head and nuzzled Will's
hand, as if he found strength and protection in the presence of the
human being, who knew so much more about some things than he or his
comrades did. Will responded at once.

"I don't think they can get us here, Selim, old boy," he said. "The
projection of the wall is slight, but it sends every rock out toward the
center. Now, if you and your comrades will only be intelligent you'll
keep safe."

He arranged them in a row along the wall, where none would interfere
with the protection of another, and standing with Selim's nose in his
hand, watched the great rocks strike. Luckily at that particular point
the bottom of the defile was soft earth and they sank into it, but
farther up they fell with a crash on a stony floor, and when they did
not split to pieces they bounded and rebounded like ricochetting cannon
balls.

The Little Giant returned presently, but as yet no damage had been done,
although the bombardment was going on as furiously as ever.

"They'll keep it up awhile," he said, as he huddled against the wall by
the side of Will. "I knowed they would be up to some trick, but I didn't
think 'bout them bowlders that lay thick on the mounting. They hev got
'nuff ammunition o' that kind to last a year, but arter a while thar
arms will grow tired, an' then they'll grow tired too, o' not knowin'
whether they hit or not. It wears out the best man in the world to keep
on workin' forever an' forever without knowin' whether he's
accomplishin' anything or not. All we've got to do is to hug the wall
an' set tight."

"Wouldn't it be well, Giant, when the bombardment lets up, to gather
together our own little army and take to flight up the pass?"

"An' whar would we fetch up?"

"It's not likely to be a box canyon. I've read that they abound more in
the southern mountains, and are not met with very often here. And even
if the pass itself didn't take us out we might find a cross canyon or a
slope that we could climb."

"Sounds good, young William. We'll git the hosses an' mules ready, packs
on 'em, and bridles in thar mouths, an' ez soon ez the arms an' sperrits
o' the Sioux git tired, I'll hot foot after Jim, an' then we'll gallop
up the pass."

The Little Giant's psychology was correct. In a half hour the
bombardment began to decrease in violence, and in ten more minutes it
ceased entirely. Then, according to plan, he ran to the mouth of the
pass and returned with the hunter, who had promptly accepted their plan.
Coaxing forth the reluctant animals, which were still in fear, they set
off up the great defile, passing among the bowlders, some of great size,
which had been tumbled down in search of their heads.

"Thar's one consolation," said the Little Giant, philosophically, "ef
any o' them big rocks had hit our heads we wouldn't hev been troubled
with wounds. My skull's hard, but it would hev been shattered like an
eggshell."

"They may begin again," said Boyd, "but by then we ought to be far
away."

It was a venture largely at random, but the three were agreed that it
must be made. The Sioux undoubtedly would resume the bombardment later
on, and they might also receive reinforcements sufficient to resume the
attack at the mouth of the pass, or at least to keep up there a distant
fire that would prove troublesome. Every motive prompted to farther
flight, and they pushed on as fast as they could, although the bottom of
the defile became rough, sown with bowlders and dangerous to the
fugitives.

They made no attempt to ride, but led the horses and mules at the ends
of their lariats, all the animals becoming exceedingly wary at the bad
footing.

"It's a blind canyon after all!" suddenly exclaimed the Little Giant in
deep disgust. "The stream comes down that mountain wall thar, droppin'
from ledge to ledge, an' here we are headed off."

"Then there's nothing to do," said the hunter, "but choose a good place
among the rocks and fight for our lives when they come."

Will looked up at the steep and lofty slopes on either side. The one on
the right seemed less steep and lofty than the other, and upon it hung a
short growth of pine and cedar, characteristic of the region. His
spirit, which danger had made bold and venturesome, seized upon an idea.

"Why not go up the slope on the right?" he asked.

"It's like the side of a house, only many times as high," said Boyd in
amazement.

"But it isn't," said the lad. "It merely looks so in the dark. We can
climb it."

"Of course we could, but we'd have to abandon the horses and mules and
all our packs and stores, and then where would we be?"

"But we won't have to leave 'em. They can climb too. You know how you
boasted of our horses, and the Giant's horses are mules which can go
anywhere."

"I believe the boy's right," said the Little Giant. "By our pullin' on
the lariats an' thar takin' advantage o' ev'ry footgrip, they might do
it. Leastways we kin try it."

"It's a desperate chance," said the hunter, "but I think with you, Tom,
that it's worth trying. Now, boys, make fast the packs to the last
strap, and up we go."

"Bein' as my hosses are mules," said the Little Giant, "I'll lead the
way, an' you foller, each feller pullin' on two lariats."

He started up the slope, whistling gayly but low to his mules, and,
after some hesitation, they attacked the ascent, Tom still whistling to
them in his most cheerful and engaging manner. There was a sound of
scrambling feet, and small stones rolled down, but not the mules, which
disappeared from sight among the cedars.

"Thunderation! I wouldn't have thought it!" exclaimed the hunter, "but I
believe you're right, Will! The mules are climbing the wall. Now, we'll
see if the horses can do it!"

"Let me start with 'em!"

"All right! But pull hard on the lariat, whenever you feel one of 'em
slipping."

Will attacked the steep wall with vigor, but he had to pull very hard
indeed on the lariats before he could make the horses try it. Finally
they made the effort, and, though slipping and sliding at times, they
crept up the slope. Behind him he heard Boyd, coming with the last two
and speaking in encouraging tones to Selim.

The lariats were a great help, and if Will had not hung on to them so
hard his horses would have fallen. But he was right in his judgment that
the face of the wall was not so steep as it looked. Moreover there were
little shelves and gullies, and the tough clumps of cedar were a
wonderful aid. The horses justified their reputation as climbers, and,
although Will's heart was in his mouth more than once, and his hands and
wrists were cut and bleeding by the pull on the lariats, they did not
fall. Always he heard in front of him the low and cheerful whistling of
the Little Giant, to his mules, which, sure-footed, went on almost
without a slip.

At last they drew out upon the crest of the slope and the three human
beings and the six animals stood there trembling violently from
exertion, the perspiration pouring from them.

"My legs are shaking under me," said the hunter. "I'd never have
believed that it could have been done, and I know it couldn't, but here
we are, anyhow."

"It wuz young William who thought of it, and who dared to speak of it,"
said the Little Giant, "an' so it's his win."

"Right you are, Giant," said the hunter heartily. "When I looked at that
cliff it stood up straight as a wall to me. It was like most other
things, it wasn't as hard when you attacked it as you thought it was,
but I still don't see how we ever got the animals up, and if I didn't
see 'em standing here I wouldn't believe it."

Will, holding to a cedar, looked into the gulf from which they had
climbed. As more of the stars had gone away he could not now see the
bottom. The great defile had all the aspects of a vast and bottomless
abyss, and he felt that their emergence from it was a marvel, a miracle
in which they had been assisted by some greater power. He was assailed
by a weakness and, trembling, he drew back from the ledge. But neither
the hunter nor the Little Giant had seen his momentary collapse and he
was glad, pardonable though it was.

"The ground back o' the cliff seems to be pretty well covered with
forest," said the Little Giant, "an' I reckon we'd better stay here a
spell 'til everybody, men an' animals, git rested up a bit."

"You never spoke truer words, Tom Bent," said Boyd. "I can make out a
fairly level stretch of ground just ahead, and I'll lead the way to it."

They crouched there. "Crouch" is the only word that describes it, as the
horses and mules themselves sank down through weariness, and their
masters, too, were glad enough to lie on the earth and wait for their
strength to come back. Will's senses, despite his exhaustion, were
nevertheless acute. He heard a heavy, lumbering form shuffling through a
thicket, and he knew that it was an alarmed bear moving from the
vicinity of the intruders. He heard also the light tread of small
animals.

"I judge from these sounds," said Boyd, "that we must be on a sort of
plateau of some extent. If it was just a knife edge ridge between two
chasms you wouldn't find so many animals here. Maybe we'd better lay by
until day, or until it's light enough to see. In the dark we might
tumble into some place a thousand feet deep."

"What about the Sioux who were on the heights throwing down the rocks?"
asked Will. "Mightn't they come along the cliff and find us here?"

"No. The way may be so cut by dips and ravines that it's all but
impassable. The chances are a thousand to one in favor of it, as this is
one of the roughest countries in the world."

"A thousand to one is good enough for me," said Will, stretching himself
luxuriously on the ground. Presently he saw Boyd and Bent wrapping
themselves in the blankets and he promptly imitated them, as a cold wind
was beginning to blow down from the northwest, a wind that cut, and, at
such a time, a lack of protection from the weather might be fatal.

The warmth from the blankets pervaded his frame, and with the heat came
the restoration of his nerves. There was also a buoyancy caused by the
escape from the Sioux, and, for the time being at least, he felt a
certain freedom from care. His comrades and the animals did not stir,
and, while not thinking of sleep, he fell asleep just the same.

He was awakened by a long, fierce shout, much like the howl of hungry
wolves, and full of rage and disappointment. He sat up on his blankets,
and was amazed to hear the two men laughing softly.

"It's them thar Sioux, Will," said the Little Giant. "They've found out
at last that thar was no outlet at the end o' the pass, an' they've come
up it to the end, jest to run ag'inst a blank wall, an' to find that
we've plum' vanished, flew away, hosses an' mules an' all."

"But won't they find our trail up the cliff?"

"No, they won't dream o' sech a thing, but in case they do dream o' it
we'll all three creep to the edge an' set thar with our repeatin'
rifles. A fine time they'd hev climbin' up thar in the face o' three
sharpshooters armed with sech weapons ez ours."

Will saw at once that their position was well nigh impregnable, at least
against foes in the defile, and he crept with the others to the edge,
not forgetting his invaluable glasses. A lot of the stars had come back
and with the aid of the powerful lenses, he was able to penetrate the
depths of the pass, seeing there at least a score of Sioux in a group,
apparently taking counsel with one another. He could not discern their
faces, and, of course, their words were inaudible at the distance, but
their gestures expressed perplexity. Their savage minds might well
believe that witchcraft had been at work, and he hoped that they had
some such idea. The climbing of the cliff by the animals was an
achievement bordering so closely upon the impossible that even if they
saw traces of the hoofs on the lower slopes they would think the spirits
of the air had come down to help the fugitives.

"What are they doing, young William?" asked the Little Giant.

"Nothing that I can see except to talk as if puzzled."

"I almost wish they would strike our trail and start up the cliff. We
could pick off every one of 'em before they reached the top."

"I'd rather they went back."

"That's what they're likely to do, young William. Even if they saw our
trail going up the cliff, they won't follow it. They've had a taste of
our marksmanship, an' they know it would be certain death. It looks to
me ez if they wuz goin' to drift back down the trail."

"You judge right, Tom. There they go. I wish I could read the expression
on their faces. They must be wild with rage. They're moving a little
faster now, and the sooner they disappear from my sight the better."

He handed the glasses to the Little Giant, who, after taking a look,
passed them to Boyd. The hunter had the last glimpse of them as they
turned a curve and were hidden by the rocky wall.

"That settles 'em, for the time, anyway," he said, "and now I think we'd
better see what kind of a country we've come into. You stay here with
the animals, Will, they like you and it's easy for you to keep 'em
quiet, while Giant and me scout about and see the lay of the land."

Will promptly accepted his part of the task. The horses and mules,
alarmed perhaps by such a wild and lonely situation, and tremulous, too,
from memories of that frightful climb up the cliff, crowded close about
him, while he stroked their noses and manes, and felt himself their
protector.

The hunter and the Little Giant vanished without noise, and Will waited
a full hour before either returned. But he was not lonesome. The horses
and mules rubbed their noses against him, and in the dark and the
wilderness they made evident their feeling that he was the one who would
guard them.

The noise of a light footstep sounded and the hunter, who had gone
south, stood before him.

"It's good news I bring," said Boyd. "We're cut off to the south by a
cliff that no one can climb, and it seems to run away toward the west
for countless miles. The Sioux can't reach us from that direction. Ah,
here is Tom! What has he to say?"

"What I hev to say is always important," replied the Little Giant, "but
this time its importance is speshul. A couple o' miles to the north a
great transverse pass runs out o' the main one, an' cuts off toward the
west. It's deep an' steep an' I reckon it bars the way thar."

"That being the case, we're on a peninsula," said Boyd, "and this
peninsula rises in the west toward very high mountains. I can see a
white dome off in that direction."

"All these facts now bein' diskivered," said the Little Giant, "I think
we've shook off them Sioux fur good, though thar ain't no tellin' when
we'll run afoul another bunch. But we'll take the good things the moment
hez give us, an' look fur what we need, wood, water an' grass."

"Wood we have all about us," said Will. "Water is bound to be plentiful
in these forested mountains, and we may strike grass by daylight."

They began an advance, making it very cautious, owing to the extremely
rough nature of the country, and all their caution was needed, as they
had to cross several ravines, and the ground was so broken that a
misstep at any time might have proved serious. In this manner they made
several miles and the general trend of the ground was a rapid ascent.
Toward dawn they came to a brook flowing very fast, and they found its
waters almost as cold as ice. Will judged it to be a glacial stream
issuing from the great white dome, now plainly visible, though far
ahead.

A short distance beyond the stream they found an open space with grass
for the animals, and very glad, too, they were to reach it, as they were
shaken by their immense exertions and the hard trail in the dark.

"This valley jest had to be here," said the Little Giant, "'cause we
couldn't hev stood goin' on any more. The hosses an' mules theirselves
are too tired to eat, but they will begin croppin' afore long."

"And it's so cold up here I think we'd better light a fire and have warm
food," said Boyd. "We can smother the smoke, and anyway it will pay us
to run the risk."

It was a task soon done, and long before breakfast was finished the
horses and mules were peacefully grazing. Will then took his rifle and
examined the country himself in some detail, going as far as the great
precipice on the south. It was not a gulch or ravine, but the ground
dropped down suddenly three or four hundred feet. Beyond that the forest
extended as before.

The view to the west was magnificent and majestic beyond description.
Up, up rose the slope, cliff on cliff and the imperial white dome
beyond! That way, too, apparently, they had to go, as they were cut off
by the precipices on all other sides, and at the moment Will felt no
particular sorrow because of it. The gold had taken a second place in
his mind, and with these two wise and brave comrades of his he would
penetrate the great mysteries of the west. The southward turn into the
plains, following the diagram of the map, could wait.

When he returned to the camp he found the animals still grazing and his
comrades sitting by the fire, which had now burned down to a bed of
coals.

"I don't see anything for us to do except to go straight on toward the
great snow mountain," he said.

"That's about the same conclusion that Tom and I have come to," said
Boyd. "We're likely to get up pretty high, where it's winter all the
year 'round, but it's better than running into the hands of the Sioux,
or any of the mountain tribes. I vote, though, that this army of three
spend the rest of the day here, and since storms gather at any time on
these uplands, we'd better build another wickiup."

"An' make brush shelters for the animals, too," said the Little Giant.

The wickiup was built and they arranged crude, but nevertheless
excellent, protection for the horses, a precaution that was soon
justified, as it began to rain the following night, and they had
alternating rain, snow and sleet for two days and two nights. The
animals were able to dig enough grass from under the snow for
sustenance, but most of the time they spent in the shelter devised for
them. When the fair weather returned and the snow melted, they left the
second wickiup, resuming the ascent of the mighty slopes. They were all
restored by their rest, and despite the elevation and the wildness they
were able to find plenty of forage for the animals.

"We've got to be mighty partic'ler with them hosses an' mules," said the
Little Giant, "'cause even ef we should reach the mine without 'em we're
bound to hev 'em to pack out the gold fur us. I expect we'll hev to
ketch an' train 'bout twenty wild hosses, too, ez we'll need 'em fur all
the gold that I'm countin' on findin'. Didn't you say thar was that
much, young William?"

"I didn't give the exact amount," replied the lad, "nor do I suppose
anyone can tell from surface indications how much gold there is in a
mine, but from the word my father brought we'll need the twenty wild
horses and more."

"O' course we will. I knowed it afore you said it. I've hunted gold
fifteen to twenty years without findin' a speck, an' so it stands to
reason that when I do find it I'll find a mountain of it."

Although the slope rose steadily, the ground, for the present, was not
much cut up, and they were able to ride in comfort. Much of the country
was beautiful and parklike. While far below there were endless brown
plains, here were great forests, without much undergrowth, and cold,
clear streams, running down from the vast snowy dome that always loomed
ahead, and that never seemed to come any nearer.

"How high would you say that peak wuz, young William?" asked the Little
Giant. "You're an eddicated lad, an' I reckon you know 'bout these
things."

"You give me too much credit," laughed Will in reply. "One has to have
instruments with which to calculate the height of mountains, and I
couldn't do it even if I had the instruments, but I should say from what
I've heard about the country and the tales of explorers that the peak
we're looking at is about 14,000 feet high."

"I've seen it once before, though from the south," said Boyd, "and I've
also met an exploring geographer kind of fellow who had seen it and who
told me it rose close on to three miles above the sea. Different Indian
tribes have different names for it, but I don't remember any of 'em."

"I think I'll call it the White Dome," said Will, examining it for the
hundredth time through his glasses. "From here it looks like a round
mountain, though it may have another shape, of course, on the other
three sides. It's a fine mountain and as it's the first time I ever saw
it I'm going to call it my peak. The forest is heavy and green clear up
to the snow line, and beyond that I think I see a vast glacier."

Two days later they made another stop in a sheltered valley through
which ran a mountain torrent. The hunter and the Little Giant shot two
mule deer and a mountain sheep, and they considered the addition to
their larder very welcome, as they had been making large inroads on
their stores. The weather, too, had grown so cold that they kept a fire
burning both day and night. Far over their heads they heard a bitter
wind of the mountains blowing, and when Will climbed out of the valley
and turned his glasses toward the White Dome he could not see the peak,
it was wrapped around so thoroughly by mists and vapors and falling
snow.

They built the fire large and high on the second night, and as they sat
around it they held a serious consultation. They feared incessant storms
and blizzards if they rose to still higher levels, and attempted to pass
around on the lofty slopes of the peak. It would, perhaps, be wiser to
follow the torrent, and enter the plains below, braving the dangers of
the Sioux.

"What good will the gold be to us if we're all froze to death under
fifty feet o' snow?" asked the Little Giant.

"None at all," replied the hunter, "and it wouldn't be any good to us,
either, if we was to slip down a precipice a thousand feet and fall on
the rocks below."

Will shivered.

"I believe I'd rather be frozen to death in Tom's way," he said.

"Then I vote that in the morning, if the wind dies, we turn down the
gorge and hunt the plains. What say you, Will?"

"It seems the wise thing to do."

"And you, Giant?"

"Me votin' last, the vote is unany-mous, an' I reckon ef we wuz to put
it to the four hosses an' two mules they'd vote jest ez we're votin'.
Tomorrow mornin', bright an' early, we start on our farewell journey
from the mountings."

They had saved and tanned the skins of three black bears they had slain,
and with big needles and pack thread they had turned them into crude
overcoats with the hair inside. Now when they put them on they found
them serviceable but heavy. At any rate, wrapped in furs they ceased to
shiver, though the wind of the mountains was still exceedingly bitter.

Fortunately the gorge down which the stream flowed was wide, and, the
descent not being too rapid, they were able to follow it a long time,
though the pace was very slow. At points where the gorge narrowed, they
took to the water, and were compelled to lead the animals with great
care, lest they slip on the bowlders that were thick in the bed of the
stream.

When night came they were far down the mountain and there had been no
accident, but they were wet to the waist, and as quickly as they could
they kindled a big and roaring fire in the lee of a cliff, careless
whether or not it was seen by enemies. Then they roasted themselves
before it, until every thread of clothing they wore was dry, ate heavily
of their food and drank two or three cups of coffee apiece.

Only then did Will feel warmed thoroughly. The older men found a fairly
level place with sparse grass for the horses, and then they put out
their fire. They told the lad there was no need to keep a watch, and,
wrapped in his bear overcoat and blankets, he slept in the shadow of the
cliff. But the hunter had seen a trace which he believed to be a human
footprint. When the Little Giant knelt in the dusk and looked at it he
was of the same opinion.

"It's too faint, Jim," he said, "fur us to tell whether it wuz made by a
white man or a red man."

"We don't care to meet either. If it's a white man it may be an outlaw,
horse thief or murderer, and that's not the kind of people we want to
join us on this gold hunt. If it's Indians, they're enemies, no matter
to what tribe they belong."

"An' then, whichever it is, our repeatin' rifles are our best friends."




CHAPTER VI

THE OUTLAW


When Will awoke the next morning he did not open his eyes at once. The
air was very cold, but he felt so snug in his bearskin and blankets that
he had an immense temptation to turn on his other side and sleep a
little more. Then, hearing the hum of voices he opened his eyes wide and
sat up, seeing, to his great surprise, that the little party in the camp
now numbered four instead of three.

He stared at the addition, who proved to be a man about thirty, tall and
well built, with dark hair and dark eyes. He, too, carried a fine
repeating rifle, but his dress was incongruous and striking. He wore a
felt hat, broad of brim, with a heavy gilt cord around the crown. A
jacket of dark red velvet with broad brass buttons enclosed his strong
shoulders and body, but his costume was finished off with trousers,
leggings and moccasins of tanned deerskin. Will saw the butt of a pistol
and the hilt of a knife peeping from under the velvet jacket.

A strange costume, he thought, and, when he looked at the man more
closely, his face also looked strange. It was that of a civilized human
being, of a man who had come from the old, settled eastern regions, and
yet it was not. The eyes, set rather close together, now and then showed
green in the early dawn. Will judged that he was one who had become
habituated to the wilderness, and, as he sat in a graceful attitude on a
great stone, he certainly showed no signs that his surroundings
oppressed him.

"Mr. Martin Felton, Will," said the hunter. "Mr. Felton, this is Mr.
William Clarke, who is traveling with us."

Will stood up, the last trace of sleep gone from his eyes, and gazed at
Felton. Perhaps this was a new comrade, turning their band to four, and
strengthening it greatly. But when he glanced at the hunter and the
Little Giant he did not see any great warmth of welcome in their eyes.

"Traveling, young sir!" said Felton in a lightly ironic tone. "You seem
to prefer paths of peril. I would not say that this is exactly a safe
region for tourists."

Now Will was quite sure he would be no addition to their party. He liked
neither his tone nor his manner.

"It's true there is plenty of danger," he replied. "But, as I take it,
there is no more for me than there is for you."

"The lad has put it very well, Mr. Felton," said the hunter. "However
much we may be seeing the sights in these regions, our risks are no
greater than yours are."

Felton, seeming not to notice him, continued, looking directly at Will:

"You're right to ask the question, but I can say in answer that your
dangers are greater than mine. I have no trouble with the Sioux. I don't
think any Indian warrior within a thousand miles of us wants my scalp."

"It was our information that they had declared war upon all white people
who entered this country. How does it happen that you're immune?"

Felton smiled, and, in the lad's opinion, it was not a pleasant smile.

"I've been among the Sioux when they were not at war with us," he
replied. "I've done them some good deeds. I've set a broken bone or two
for them--I've a little surgical skill--and Mahpeyalute, whom we call
Red Cloud, has assured me that no harm will ever be done to me. For that
reason I'm wandering among these mountains and on the plains. I noticed
on one of your horses picks, shovels and other mining implements, and I
thought you might combine gold hunting with sight seeing. I'm something
of a gold hunter myself and it occurred to me that we could combine
forces. I've heard vaguely about a huge gold lead much farther west, and
we four might make a strong party, able to reach it despite the Indian
troubles."

The lad's heart beat the note of alarm and of hostility. Was it possible
that this man knew anything of his father's great mine? He had to
exchange only a few sentences with him to understand that he was not
wanted as a fourth partner in the venture.

"Mr. Bent looks for gold casually," he replied, "but our main object is
hunting and exploration. I doubt whether we'd want to take on anything
else, though we thank you for your offer, Mr. Felton."

Felton did not seem at all disconcerted. He made upon Will the
impression of persistency and of great strength, although the strength
might be for evil.

"And so you don't think four are better than three," he said.

"That was not what I implied," replied Will. "What I meant to say was
that our party was made up. Isn't that the way you feel about it, Mr

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