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The Pioneer Boys of the Columbia; or, In the Wilderness of the Great Northwest

by St. George Rathborne · English · Gutenberg #46799 · 412,450 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Pioneer Boys of the Columbia; or, In the Wilderness of the Great Northwest

Author: St. George Rathborne

Illustrator: Walter S. Rogers


        
Release date: September 7, 2014 [eBook #46799]
                Most recently updated: October 24, 2024

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLUMBIA; OR, IN THE WILDERNESS OF THE GREAT NORTHWEST ***

[Transcriber's Note: Bold text is surrounded by =equal signs= and
italic text is surrounded by _underscores_.]



THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLUMBIA

[Illustration]

OR: IN THE WILDERNESS OF THE GREAT NORTHWEST




THE YOUNG PIONEER SERIES

BY HARRISON ADAMS

ILLUSTRATED


[Illustration]

  THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE OHIO,
  Or: Clearing the Wilderness                      $1.25

  THE PIONEER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES,
  Or: On the Trail of the Iroquois                  1.25

  THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSISSIPPI,
  Or: The Homestead in the Wilderness               1.25

  THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSOURI,
  Or: In the Country of the Sioux                   1.25

  THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE YELLOWSTONE,
  Or: Lost in the Land of Wonders                   1.25

  THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLUMBIA,
  Or: In the Wilderness of the Great Northwest      1.25

[Illustration]

    THE PAGE COMPANY
    53 Beacon Street     Boston, Mass.

[Illustration: "THE TWO BOYS HAD TO . . . START UPON THE LONG JOURNEY
INTO THE NORTHWEST" (_See page 148_)]




The Young Pioneer Series

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLUMBIA

OR: IN THE WILDERNESS OF THE GREAT NORTHWEST

    By HARRISON ADAMS
    Author of "The Pioneer Boys of the Ohio," "The Pioneer
    Boys of the Missouri," "The Pioneer Boys
    of the Yellowstone," etc.

[Illustration]

    Illustrated by
    WALTER S. ROGERS


    THE PAGE COMPANY
    BOSTON  [Illustration]  MDCCCCXVI




[Illustration]

    _Copyright, 1916, by_
    THE PAGE COMPANY


    _All rights reserved_


    First Impression,
    May, 1916




[Illustration]




PREFACE

DEAR BOYS:--


The time has at last arrived when we must say good-bye to our pioneer
friends, the Armstrongs. You will remember how we have followed their
adventurous careers down the Ohio, along the Mississippi, then up the
great Missouri to the wonder country of the Yellowstone; and now,
between the covers of the present volume, are narrated the concluding
incidents in the story of "Westward Ho!"

Our country is deeply indebted to the class of pioneers typified by the
Armstrong boys. Restless spirits many of them were, always yearning for
richer lands where game would be more plentiful. It was undoubtedly
this desire that led them further and further into the "Country of the
Setting Sun," constantly seeking that which many of them never found;
until at length the Pacific barred their further progress.

Bob and Sandy Armstrong, together with their sturdy sons, Dick and
Roger, are but types of the settlers who opened up the rich territory
of the Mississippi Valley, as well as the Great West. Their kind is not
so numerous now, at least in our own country, since the need for such
adventurous souls has become less acute. In many places, however, like
the Canadian Northwest, they can still be met with, forging the links
that will bind the wilderness to civilization.

If you boys have found one half the enjoyment in reading of the
exploits of our young pioneers that the task has afforded the author
in writing of them, his aim, which has been to instruct as well as to
entertain, will have been accomplished.

                                                HARRISON ADAMS.

May 1, 1916.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




CONTENTS

    CHAPTER                                   PAGE
           PREFACE                               v
         I THE LURE OF THE SETTING SUN           1
        II WRECKED IN THE RAPIDS                11
       III WOLVES IN THE TIMBER                 22
        IV THE BIRCH BARK MESSAGE               33
         V WHAT THE PICTURE WRITING TOLD        44
        VI STALKING THE BUFFALO                 55
       VII HUNTERS, ALL                         66
      VIII CHARGED BY A BULL                    74
        IX PLANNING A SURPRISE                  82
         X SPRINGING THE TRAP                   96
        XI BANISHED FROM CAMP                  106
       XII ON FISHING BENT                     117
      XIII GLORIOUS SPORT WITH THE TROUT       128
       XIV PRISONERS OF THE DACOTAHS           139
        XV WHEN STOUT HEARTS WERE NECESSARY    149
       XVI THE ESCAPE                          159
      XVII SHELTER IN A HOLLOW TREE            170
     XVIII THE STORM                           180
       XIX UNDER THE FALLEN FOREST MONARCH     190
        XX THE RETURN FROM CAPTIVITY           199
       XXI AT THE FOOT OF THE ROCKIES          211
      XXII THE DEATH OF THE BULL MOOSE         222
     XXIII HUNTING THE MOUNTAIN SHEEP          232
      XXIV ON THE BURNING DESERT               243
       XXV THE OASIS                           254
      XXVI AMONG THE NEZ PERCES                263
     XXVII FROM SADDLE TO CANOE AGAIN          276
    XXVIII AT THE FALLS OF THE COLUMBIA        287
      XXIX NEARING THE SALTY SEA               298
       XXX A MOMENT OF PERIL                   308
      XXXI THE END OF THE LONG TRAIL           316
     XXXII TO THE RISING SUN--CONCLUSION       329
           NOTES                               337

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


                                                              PAGE
  "THE TWO BOYS HAD TO . . . START UPON THE LONG
      JOURNEY INTO THE NORTHWEST" (_see page 148_)   _Frontispiece_
  "'HE TRIES TO STRIKE THEM AS THEY JUMP AT HIM'"               32
  "'RUN FOR THE TREES, ROGER!' SHOUTED DICK"                    74
  "THEY PUSHED FORWARD, AND WERE SOON AT THE
      FALLEN TREE"                                             192
  "'THERE! YOU CAN SEE HIM MOVE'"                              235
  "FULLY HALF OF THE FLAT HEAD INDIANS WENT WITH
      THE LANDSLIDE"                                           317

[Illustration]




The Pioneer Boys of the Columbia




CHAPTER I

THE LURE OF THE SETTING SUN


"IT strikes me, Dick, the rapids are noisier to-day than ever before."

"We have time enough yet, Roger, to paddle ashore, and give up our plan
of running them."

"But that would be too much like showing the white feather, Cousin; and
you must know that we Armstrongs never like to do that."

"Then we are to try our luck in the midst of the snarling, white-capped
water-wolves, are we, Roger?"

"I say, 'yes.' We started to make the run, and a little extra noise
isn't going to frighten us off. Besides, we may not have another chance
to try it."

"You're right there, Roger, for I heard Captain Lewis say we'd have to
start up the river again in a few days, heading into the great West,
the Land of the Setting Sun."

"I am ready, Dick. My paddle can be depended on to see us through.
We'll soon be at the head of the rapids, too."

"Already the canoe feels the pull, and races to meet it. Steady now,
Roger, and let us remember what the Indians told us about the only safe
passage through the Big Trouble Water, as they call it. A little more
to the left--now straight ahead, and both together!"

The two sturdy, well-grown lads who crouched in the frail Indian craft,
made of tanned buffalo skins, need no introduction to those who have
read any of the preceding volumes of this series.

There may be those, however, who, in these pages, are making the
acquaintance of Dick and Roger, the young pioneers, for the first time;
and for their benefit a little explanation may be necessary.

While the pair are shooting downward, on the rapidly increasing current
of the Yellowstone River, toward the roaring rapids, on this spring day
in the year 1805, let us take a brief look backward. Who were these
daring lads of the old frontier days, and how came they so far from
the westernmost settlements of the English-speaking race along the
Mississippi, and about the mouth of the Missouri?

Dick Armstrong and his cousin, Roger, were the sons of two brothers
whose adventures along the Ohio in the days of Daniel Boone occupied
our attention in the earlier stories of border life. They were worthy
of their fathers, for Dick had inherited the thoughtful character of
Bob Armstrong, while Roger at times displayed the same bold disposition
that had always marked Sandy, his parent, in the perilous days when
they founded their homes in the then untrodden wilderness.

The families were now located at that spot which had first been taken
up by the French, and called St. Louis in honor of the King of France.
Their grandfather, David Armstrong, still lived, as did also his wife,
hale and hearty, enjoying the increasing households of their children.

Bob and Sandy had both married, and besides Dick there was a smaller
son, named Sam in the cabin of the former. Roger had a little sister,
called Mary, in honor of her grandmother.

The two cousins had grown up, as did most lads of those early days,
accustomed to think for themselves, and to meet danger bravely. Both
of them were accomplished in all the arts known to successful woodsmen.
They learned from experience, as well as from the lips of old borderers
who visited in their homes, and were able to hold their own with any
boys of their age in the community.

A sudden calamity threatened to disturb the peace of the Armstrong
circle, when it was learned that there was a flaw in the deed by which
their property was held. An important signature was required in order
to perfect this title, and, unless this could be obtained, and shown by
the succeeding spring, everything would pass into the possession of a
rich and unscrupulous French Indian trader, François Lascelles by name.

Inquiry developed the fact that Jasper Williams, the man whose
signature was so important to the happiness of all the Armstrongs, had
gone with the expedition undertaken by Captain Lewis and Captain Clark,
which was headed into the unknown country of the Setting Sun, with the
hope of finding a way to the far distant Pacific Ocean.

No white man had as yet crossed the vast stretches of country that lay
west of the rolling Mississippi, and it was the boldest undertaking
ever known when President Jefferson influenced Congress to stand back
of his proposition to learn the extent of the possessions that had
recently come to the United States. (Note 1.)[1]

The President's private secretary, Captain Lewis, headed the small
party of adventurous spirits, assisted by an army officer, Captain
Clark. They left St. Louis in the spring of 1804, and had been long on
the way when the Armstrongs discovered that the one man whom they could
depend on to save their homes was with the expedition.

Ordinarily Bob and Sandy Armstrong would have been quick to take upon
themselves the duty of overtaking the expedition, and securing the
necessary signature; but a recent injury prevented one of the brothers
from going.

In the end the proposition of Dick and Roger to undertake the
stupendous task was agreed to, and the boys started, mounted on two
horses and equipped as well as the times permitted. The adventures they
met with were thrilling in the extreme, and have been described at
length in earlier volumes.[2]

The youths overtook the expedition after it had gone far up the "Great
Muddy," as the Missouri had already become known, and the coveted
signature was obtained. Then the lads were tempted to continue with the
party, since Captain Lewis was sending back one of his most trusted
scouts with an account of what had already happened to the expedition,
for the perusal of President Jefferson; and he could be trusted to see
that the precious document reached the Armstrongs.

During the winter just passed the two boys were kept busy in the rôle
of scouts and providers of fresh meat for the camp, a duty which their
early training made them peculiarly fitted to assume.

The expedition had laid out a comfortable camp near the Indian village
of the Mandan tribe, with whom peaceful relations had been established
at the time of their first arrival in the neighborhood.

Some of the bolder spirits had ventured into the realm of natural
wonders now known as Yellowstone Park, and had viewed with amazement
and awe the strange geysers that spouted hot water hundreds of feet in
the air at stated periods, as well as many other singular mysteries.

Dick and Roger had been among the fortunate few to view these marvels;
but, as a rule, the soldiers and bordermen associated with the two
captains were almost as superstitious as the ignorant red men, and
actually feared to set eyes on these strange freaks of Nature which
they could not understand. The Indians called the place the Bad Lands,
and believed an evil Manitou dwelt there, who was ever ready to
seize upon and enchain those reckless warriors who should invade his
territory.

Slowly the long winter had passed away, and all seemed to be going
well. There had been occasional signs of trouble, when hostile hunting
parties of Indians were encountered; but, thus far, none of the
expedition had been more than wounded in these frays.

Spring was at last at hand, and every one in the party looked forward
with eagerness to the fresh start that was soon to be made. They had
gathered much information concerning the vast stretch of plains and
mountains that still lay between them and their goal; but, since
only Indians had ever penetrated that wilderness, these stories were
invariably untrustworthy, for the mind of the red man was very much
like that of a child, and could see things only from an imaginative
standpoint.

About all that the adventurers really knew was that there was a
tremendous barrier of mountains which they must climb before they could
hope to attain their ambitious aim and gaze upon the Pacific Ocean,
seen at that time only by those, following Balboa, who had crossed the
narrow isthmus where the Panama Canal now joins the rival oceans.

Every evening, when the sun was setting in a maze of glowing colors,
Dick and Roger were accustomed to stand and watch until the last fiery
finger had finally faded from the skies. To them that mysterious West
held out beckoning arms. They never tired of talking about the fresh
wonders they might gaze upon once they started into the trackless
wilds; and their young souls were aflame with eagerness as the days
crept along, each one bringing them closer to the hour of departure.

For some time they had intended to take a canoe through the big rapids
of the river, which they had passed in ascending the stream, before
making the winter camp. From the Indians they had secured all possible
information, and finally, knowing that their time here was now short,
they had set forth with the canoe that had been their property for
months, bent upon undertaking the rather risky voyage.

If the daring canoe-man knows his course, the passing through a rapid,
amidst all the foam and rush of hungry waters, is not the perilous
thing it seems. Besides a knowledge of the way, all that is required is
a bold heart, a quick eye, a stout paddle, and muscular arms to wield
it.

The two lads soon entered the upper stretches of the white-capped
water. They quickly picked out their course, and found themselves
shooting downward with almost incredible speed. Around them on every
hand was boiling, tumultuous water, curling and rushing and leaping as
though eager to seize upon its prey.

Dick and his cousin were not at all dismayed. They had rubbed up
against perils so often in their young lives that they could keep cool
in the face of almost any danger. Roger crouched in the bow and fended
off from the rocks, so that the glancing blows the boat received would
not damage the tough skins of which the craft was made.

Dick occupied the stern, and his was the crafty hand that really guided
the canoe, for Roger always acknowledged that his cousin could handle
a paddle better than he could.

They had passed more than two-thirds of the way down the rapids, and
the worst seemed to be behind them, when something strange happened.

The canoe struck a partly submerged, but perfectly smooth, rock. It was
only a slight blow, and glancing at that, but nevertheless the results
were startling. No sooner had the accident occurred than the bottom of
the boat gaped open and the water rushed in with terrible speed. One
look convinced Dick that it was quite hopeless to try to keep the craft
afloat with their weight to force this flood through the hole.

"Quick! snatch up your gun, and jump overboard, Roger!" he shouted.
"And hold on to the boat, remember, like grim death!"

Roger was nothing if not catlike in his actions when an emergency
arose; and the two lads leaped over into the swirling water as
one, ready to battle for their lives with the rapids, where the
superstitious red men said the evil spirits dwelt amidst continual
strife and warring.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The notes will be found at the end of the book.

[2] "The Pioneer Boys of the Missouri" and "The Pioneer Boys of the
Yellowstone."




CHAPTER II

WRECKED IN THE RAPIDS


WHEN they made this sudden plunge, the two boys were careful to
maintain their grip upon the sides of the boat, one being on the right
and the other on the left. Relieved of their weight, the buoyant canoe
would probably float, and might yet prove of considerable help to them
in navigating the remainder of the boisterous rapids.

All pioneer boys early learned to swim like fishes. It was as much a
part of their education as handling a gun, or acquiring a knowledge of
woodcraft. The lad who was not proficient in all these things would
have been hard to find, and had he been discovered, the chances were
he would have been deemed a true mollycoddle, and fit only to wear the
dresses of his sister, or, as the Indians would have described it, be a
"squaw."

No sooner had Dick and Roger found themselves in the swift flowing
waters than they struck out most manfully to keep themselves and the
boat afloat. It was no new experience in their adventurous career, for
before now they had more than once found themselves battling with a
flood.

For a brief time it promised to be a most exciting experience, and one
that would require their best endeavors if they hoped to come out alive
at the foot of the rapids. To be hurled against some of the jutting
spurs of rock with all the force of that speeding current would mean
blows that would weaken their powers of resistance, and cause them to
lose their grip on the side of the canoe.

There were times when they were almost overwhelmed by the dashing,
foamy waters. In every instance, however, their pluck and good judgment
served to carry them through the difficulty.

All the while they had the satisfaction of knowing that they must be
drawing closer to the end of the rapids. Already Dick believed he could
notice a little slackening of the fury with which they were beaten
on all sides by the lashing waters. He managed to give a shout to
encourage his cousin.

"Keep holding on, Roger; we are nearly at the bottom! Another minute
will take us into smoother water! Tighten your grip, and we shall win
out yet!"

"I'm game to the finish!" was all Roger could say in reply, for every
time he opened his mouth it seemed as though some of the riotous water
would swoop over his head and almost choke him by forcing itself down
his throat.

Before another minute was half over they had come to the foot of the
rapids, and, still holding to the waterlogged canoe, floated out upon
comparatively smooth water. Here amidst the foam and eddies they
managed to push the boat toward the shore.

Roger was already laughing, a little hysterically it is true, for he
had been tremendously worked up over the exciting affair. It might have
ended in a tragedy for them; but, now that the peril was past, Roger
could afford to act as if he saw only the humorous side of the accident.

"That was a very close call, Dick!" he ventured, as they continued to
swim as best they could, holding their guns in the hands that at the
same time clutched the gunwales of the boat.

"We rather expected it," replied Dick, "and laid our plans to meet an
upset; but it came with a rush, after all. Who'd ever believe such a
little knock against a rock would have burst the tough skin of our hide
boat?"

"Yes, and a perfectly _smooth_ rock at that," added Roger, as though he
knew this to a certainty, and it added to the mystery in his eyes. "I
believed these boats were tough enough to stand ten times that amount
of pounding. I believe after all I prefer our old style of dugout."

"Yes, they may be clumsy, but you can depend on them all the time;
and after this I think I'll be suspicious about a hide boat," Dick
continued.

The shore was now close at hand, and they found little difficulty in
making a landing. At the same time the half sunken Indian boat was
dragged up on the bank, and tipped over to relieve it of the water,
though that began to pour out through the rent in the bottom as soon as
it left the river.

It was only natural that the two boys should first throw themselves
down on the soft bank to regain some of their breath after such
an exciting time. Then, having been brought up in the school of
preparedness, their next act was to examine their guns, and to renew
the priming of powder in the pan, so that the weapons, on which, they
always depended to defend themselves against sudden perils, would be in
condition for immediate use in case of necessity.

In those days old heads were to be found on young shoulders.
Responsibility caused lads, hardly entering their teens, to become
the defenders of their families, as well as hunters and trappers. And
the Armstrong cousins had long filled a position of trust of this
description in the home circles.

"Well, we shot the rapids, all right," remarked Roger, presently, with
a whimsical smile; "but not exactly as we had planned. Now we can have
the pleasure of walking back to camp. At least it saves us the bother
of paddling all the way, after making a carry around the rapids. And we
meant to give our boat to one of the Mandan boys, you remember, Dick."

"I'm puzzled about that boat," remarked the other, frowning.

"I suppose you mean you wonder what made it play such a treacherous
trick on us, after standing the wear and tear of the winter," Roger
observed.

"Yes, for you remember we examined it closely only yesterday, and made
sure it was in perfect condition. Suppose we take a look at that
break, and see how it happened to come."

"Oh! the chances are," said Roger, carelessly, "the old hide became
worn or weak through age, and gave way. Still," he added, "that was
only a little bump, Dick, and I'm as bothered as you are how to explain
it."

In another minute they were bending over the upturned canoe.
Immediately both boys uttered exclamations of astonishment, as though
they had made a discovery that gave them an unexpected thrill.

"Why, it looks as if a sharp knife blade had been drawn straight down
along here, and cut nearly through the skin, so that even a little blow
would finish it!" exclaimed Roger, turning his troubled eyes upon his
cousin as if to ascertain whether the other agreed with him.

"That is exactly what has been done," added Dick, soberly. "See, you
can even notice where the slit extends further than the break. This was
not as much an accident as we thought, Roger. Some rascal, who knew
what we expected to do, tried to bring about our destruction in the
rapids!"

"But it must have been done since yesterday," declared the other
angrily, "for we looked over every inch of the skin of the boat then,
and surely would have noticed the deep scoring of a knife blade."

"There can be no doubt about that," agreed Dick. "And the work was
skillfully done in the bargain. Whoever made that cut expected that
the boat would strike against rocks many times during the run of the
rapids, and took chances that one of the blows would tear open the weak
place. And that is what happened."

"It would have gone much harder with us if we had not been most of the
way down the descent," said Roger, with a frown on his face. "But,
Dick, who could the treacherous rascal be? As far as we know, we have
not made a single enemy among the members of the party. Would one of
our Indian friends have played such a mean trick on us, do you think?"

"No one but an enemy could have done it, Roger, because there was
nothing to gain; for while some Indians might envy us our rifles these
would surely be lost with us in the rapids and never recovered."

"That makes the mystery worse than ever, then," fretted the other
lad, who was so constituted that among his boy friends down along the
Missouri he had often gone under the name of "Headstrong Roger."

"I have a suspicion, although there is really nothing to back it up,
that I can see," remarked Dick, reflectively, as though at some time in
the past winter he had allowed himself to speculate concerning certain
things which were now again taking possession of his mind.

"Dick, tell me what it is about, please," urged his cousin, "because
I'm groping in the dark, myself."

"There is only one man that I know of who hates us bitterly," commenced
Dick, and instantly a flash of intelligence overspread the face of the
other.

"Do you mean that French trader, François Lascelles?" he demanded.

"I was thinking of him, and his equally unscrupulous son, Alexis," Dick
admitted.

"But, when we captured them last fall, they were held prisoners in the
camp until Mayhew, the scout, was well on his way down the river and
could not possibly be overtaken. Then the party of Frenchmen was let
go, with the solemn warning from Captain Lewis that if any of them
loitered around this region they would be shot on sight. And Dick, all
winter long you remember we have seen nothing of Lascelles, or indeed
for that matter any other white man."

"Still," urged the other, "he may have come back here again when he
found he could not overtake Mayhew and secure that paper. A man like
François Lascelles hates bitterly, and never forgives. To be beaten in
his game by a couple of mere boys would make him gnash his teeth every
time he remembered it. Yes, something seems to tell me, Roger, that
our old enemy has returned, and is even now in communication with some
treacherous member of the expedition."

"You mean his money has hired some one to play this terrible trick that
might have cost us our lives; is that it, Dick?"

"It is only a guess with me," replied the other, soberly; "but I can
see no other explanation of this mystery."

"But who could be the guilty man in the camp?" asked Roger. "We
believed every one was our friend, from the two captains down to the
lowest in line. It is terrible to suspect any one of a crime like this.
How will we ever be able to find out about it, do you think?"

"We must begin to keep our eyes about us and watch," advised Dick. "One
by one we can cross the names off our list until it narrows down to
two or three. Sooner or later we shall find out the truth."

"Do you mean to tell Captain Lewis about the knife-slit along the
bottom of our boat?" demanded Roger.

"It is our duty to tell him," Dick declared. "The man who could stoop
to such a trick as that, just for love of money, is not fit to stay in
the ranks of honest explorers. Once we can show him the proof, I am
sure Captain Lewis will kick the rascal out of camp. But I can see that
you are beginning to shiver, Roger; so the first thing we ought to do
now is to make a fire, and dry our clothes as best we may."

"I was just going to say that myself, Dick, because this spring air is
sharp, with little heat in the sun. To tell you the honest truth my
teeth are beginning to rattle like those bones the Mandan medicine man
shakes, when he dances to frighten off the evil spirit that has entered
the body of a sick man. So let's gather some wood and make a blaze."

With that, both boys began to bestir themselves, first of all slapping
their arms back and forth to induce circulation; after which they
started to collect dry wood in a heap. At no time, however, did they
let their precious guns leave their possession, for they knew that
when fire-arms were needed it was usually in a hurry, and to save life.




CHAPTER III

WOLVES IN THE TIMBER


"LET me light the pile, Dick," Roger pleaded, after they had made
sufficient preparation.

They had selected only dry wood for various reasons. In the first
place, this would burn more readily, and thus throw off the heat they
wanted in order to dry their clothes. At the same time it was likely to
make little smoke that could be seen by the eyes of any hostile Indians
who might be within a mile or so of the spot.

Boys who lived in those pioneer days always carried flint and steel
along with them, in order to kindle a blaze when necessary. Had these
been lacking, Roger, no doubt, would have been equal to the occasion,
for he could have flashed some powder in the pan of his gun, and thus
accomplished his purpose. (Note 2.)

In a short time Roger, being expert in these lines, succeeded, by the
use of flint and steel, as well as some fine tinder, which he always
carried along with him in his ditty bag, in starting a fire.

The wood blazed up and sent out a most gratifying heat, so that both
boys, by standing as close as they could bear it, began to steam, very
much after the manner of some of the warm geysers, during the stated
periods when they were not spouting, that the lads had looked upon in
the Land of Wonders.

"What shall we do about the boat?" asked Roger, when they found that
they were by degrees getting dry, though it took a long time to
accomplish this desired end.

"I was thinking about that," his cousin told him. "It is not worth
while for us to try to patch the hole, because we expect to abandon it
very soon. Captain Lewis asked us to be with him in his boat. We had
better leave it here, and perhaps they may send a couple of Indians
down to fetch it to camp."

"You mean, Dick, if the captain wishes to see for himself the mark of
the treacherous knife blade?"

"Which I think he will want to do, so as to settle it in his own mind,"
returned the other. "This is, after all, the most terrifying thing that
has as yet happened to us on our long journey up here into the heart of
the wilderness."

"That is just it, Dick. Open foes I can stand, because you know what
to expect; but it gives me a creep to think of some unknown person
standing ready to stab us in the dark, or when our backs are turned.
Perhaps, after all, we did wrong to decide on staying with Captain
Lewis and Captain Clark, when we might have gone on home with Mayhew,
carrying that precious paper."

"Oh! I wouldn't look at it that way, Roger," said the other, striving
to cheer him up, for Roger was subject to sudden fits of depression.
"Just think of all the wonderful things we have seen while here; and
then remember that there are still other strange sights awaiting us in
the Land of the Setting Sun."

"Yes, that's so, Dick, and both of us decided that the chance to look
upon the great ocean was one not to be lightly cast aside."

"We've been lucky so far," Dick told his chum, "and succeeded in
everything we have undertaken; so even this new trouble mustn't upset
us. By keeping a sharp lookout we can expect to learn who the traitor
is, and after that he will be forced to leave the party. And if that
Lascelles is around here again he will have to look out for himself.
Anyhow," he added after a pause, "we have gone too far now to turn
back, no matter whether we made a mistake or not."

"Yes, and as my father used to say," continued Roger, "'what can't
be cured must be endured.' We have made our bed, and must lie in it,
no matter how hard it may seem. I'm going to believe just as you do,
Dick--that the same kind fate that has always watched over us in times
past is still on duty."

He glanced upward toward the blue sky as he said this, and Dick knew
what he intended to imply; for boys in those days were reared in a
religious atmosphere in their humble homes, and early learned to "trust
in the Lord; but keep their powder dry," as the Puritan Fathers used to
do.

"Our fathers often had to meet situations just as dangerous as any that
can come to us," continued Dick, "and they grappled them boldly and
came off victorious. So, from now on, we'll devote ourselves to finding
out whose was the unseen hand that held the knife with which our hide
boat was slashed so cleverly."

"How far are we from camp, do you think, Dick?"

"As the crow flies it may be five miles, though we came further than
that on the river," the other boy replied without any hesitation,
showing how completely he kept all these things in his mind, to be
utilized on short notice.

"We came down with a swift current," Roger admitted, "and it hardly
seemed as if we could have been an hour on the way. It will take us
some time to tramp back to camp, even if we take a short-cut to avoid
the bends in the river."

"What of that," asked Dick, "since we expected to spend a good part of
the day in paddling up the stream, after shooting the rapids? But, if
you are dry enough now, I think we had better make a start."

"Suppose we drag the boat into these bushes first, Dick," suggested
Roger.

"Not a bad idea either, for some passing Indian might think it worth
while to mend the hole and carry the boat off. We would like to have
Captain Lewis take a look at that knife mark, so as to prove our story.
He trusts all his men, and it is going to make him feel badly to know
that one among them has sold himself to an enemy."

Between them they carried the hide canoe in among the bushes, where it
was easily hidden away. Of course any one seeking it would readily
find its hiding-place; but at least it could not be seen by the
ordinary passer-by.

Having accomplished this, the two lads set forth to cover the ground
lying between their landing place on the shore of the river, below the
rapids, and the camp of the explorers.

They anticipated no trouble in finding their goal, because of their
familiarity with woods life. Besides, in their numerous hunting trips
during the past winter they had covered nearly all the territory around
that region, so that the chances of their getting lost were small
indeed.

"We may run across game on the way back, don't you think, Dick?"
suggested Roger, just after they had left the ashes of their late fire,
which had been dashed with water before they quitted the scene.

"You never can tell," came the reply; "there is always a chance to
sight a deer in this country. We got a number, you remember, within
three miles of camp while the snow was deep on the ground. And already
I have noticed signs telling that they use this section for feeding on
the early shoots of grass."

"Yes," added Roger, "tracks there have been in plenty. And as I live!
see here, where this tuft of reddish hair has caught on a pointed
piece of bark. I warrant you some buck rubbed himself against this tree
good and hard. I would like to have been within gunshot of the rascal
just then, for the marks are fresh, and I think they were made this
very morning."

This gave the two boys hope that they might at any minute run across
the deer and bring him down with a lucky shot. As fresh venison was
always welcome in the camp, such a possibility as this always spurred
them on to do their best. They liked to hear the cheery voice of
Captain Lewis telling them frankly that it had been a fortunate thing
for the whole expedition when he tempted Dick and Roger to remain and
see the enterprise through.

"Listen! what is all that noise ahead of us?" asked Roger, as a sudden
burst of snarling and half-suppressed howling was borne to their ears.

"Wolves, as sure as you live!" exclaimed Dick, frowning, for if there
was one animal upon which he disliked to waste any of his precious
ammunition, that beast was a wolf.

Ordinarily these animals are not to be feared when met singly, or even
in pairs; but, during the winter and early spring, they gather in
packs, in order to hunt the better for food, and at such times even
the boldest hunter dislikes running across them.

"They are certainly on the track of something," suggested Roger, as he
listened, and then, shrugging his broad shoulders, he continued. "Like
as not, it is that buck we were hoping to run across. A plague on the
pests! If I had my way, and could spare the ammunition, I'd shoot every
one of the lot!"

"Little good that would do," Dick told him; "because they run to
thousands upon thousands out on the plains and in the mountains where
we are heading. A dozen or two would be no more than a grain of sand on
that seashore we hope to set eyes on before snow flies again."

"But listen to them carrying on, Dick," continued the other, with
growing excitement. "Come to think of it, I never heard wolves make
those queer sounds when chasing a deer. You know they yap like dogs,
and almost bark. These beasts are acting like those creatures did when
they had me caught up in a tree, with my gun on the ground."

"Yes, I remember the time well enough," chuckled Dick. "You were
mighty glad to see a fellow of my heft, too, when I came along. Twenty
hours up a tree is no joke, when you've got a healthy appetite in the
bargain. But, just as you say, Roger, there is something queer about
the way they are carrying on."

"They're not chasing anything now, that's certain," asserted the other
positively; "because the sounds keep coming from the same place all the
time. Dick, perhaps the beasts may have some one treed for all we know.
They are savage with hunger, and would just as soon make a meal off a
hunter, red or white, as off a deer or a wounded buffalo."

"It happens to be right on our way to camp," remarked Dick, tightening
his grip on his long-barreled rifle, "so we can find out what's up
without going far out of our path."

This, of course, pleased Headstrong Roger, always in readiness for
adventure, it mattered little of what nature. He always maintained that
he had a long-standing debt against the tribe of _lupus_ on account of
that terrible fast mentioned by his cousin, and, although powder and
ball were not too plentiful, he seldom failed to take a shot at his
four-footed enemies when the chance came to him.

So now he fancied that he would end the prowling of at least one
red-tongued woods rover. Certainly he could spare a single charge, and
it would give him more satisfaction than almost anything else. You see,
Roger had rubbed the old sore when he spoke of that bitter experience
in the past, and it smarted again venomously.

As they pushed steadily on, the sounds increased in volume. They could
even hear the thud of heavy bodies falling back to the ground after
frantic leaps aloft, as though endeavoring to reach some tempting
object among the branches of a tree.

Then Roger, who had the keenest eyesight of the pair, muttered:

"There, I can just begin to see them through the trees and brush
yonder, Dick; and, as we believed, they have some human being treed, or
else are trying to force conclusions with a panther, which would be a
strange thing, to be sure."

"We'll soon know," the other whispered, "for it's only a little way.
Yes, I can see them jumping up, just as you say. Roger, fasten your
eyes on the tree above, and tell me what that dark object is."

A minute later, as they still kept pushing forward, Roger uttered a low
cry.

"Well, after all, it's an Indian brave up there. And he's already
shot a number of the brutes with his arrows; but I reckon his stock
has given out. He tries to strike them as they jump at him, using his
knife. And, Dick, I can see now that he isn't a Mandan Indian at all,
but more likely one of those Sioux who, under their sub-chief, Beaver
Tail, did us such a good turn last fall, when we saved Jasper Williams
from the French traders. But what can a Sioux warrior be doing here, in
the land of his foes, the Mandans?"

[Illustration: "'HE TRIES TO STRIKE THEM AS THEY JUMP AT HIM'"]




CHAPTER IV

THE BIRCH BARK MESSAGE


"THERE, I could see him reach down then and strike at a leaping wolf!"
exclaimed Dick, showing signs of excitement, something he seldom did,
since he had wonderful control over his emotions for a boy of his age.

"Just as I told you," continued Roger, trembling all over with
eagerness, "he has used up his arrows, and is trying to cut down the
number of his four-footed enemies by other means."

"There, listen to that howl!"

"Oh! he made a splendid strike that time, Dick!"

"Yes, and you can see what that clever brave is up to, if you notice
the wild scuffle at the foot of the tree," the other replied.

"Why, the wolves seem to be fighting among themselves, Dick. What makes
them act that way, do you know?"

"I can give a guess. These mad animals are almost starving, though
just how that should be, at this season of the year, I am not able to
say. The scent of blood makes them wild, you see, and, every time the
brave's knife wounds one of the pack, the rest set upon the wretched
beast to finish him."

"In that way the Indian could clean them up in time, I should say,
without any help from us," Roger suggested, though he showed no sign
that his intention of giving aid had changed in the least.

"But they might take warning, and stop jumping up at him," Dick
explained; "then his knife would be useless. And, too, other wolves
hearing the noise are apt to hasten to the spot, so that there might be
an increasing pack, a new one for every beast he helped to kill."

"Dick, he is a brave fellow, even if his skin is red!"

"I agree with you there," said the other, softly.

"Then are we not going to bring about his rescue, even if it does cost
us some of our precious powder and shot?" Roger demanded.

"Yes, but I hope it will not be more than one load," replied his
cousin; for all their lives this question of a wastage of ammunition
had been impressed on their minds as the utmost folly, and on that
account they seldom used their guns except to make sure of worthy game.

"Come, let us rush forward with loud yells, waving our arms, and doing
everything we can to scare the animals off before we begin to fire.
After we get close up, and they are hesitating what to do, that is the
time for us to blaze away."

"A good plan, Roger, and worthy of our fathers' old friend, Pat O'Mara.
Only as a last resort will we use our fire-arms."

"And you be the one to say when, Dick, remember!"

"Depend on me for that," Roger was told quickly. "Just as soon as I
see that something is needed to force the ugly beasts to make up their
minds, I'll call out to you to give it to them."

"Give me one last word of advice before we rush them, Dick."

"Yes, what is it, Roger?"

"If, instead of taking to their heels, the pack turns on us, and starts
to fight, what must we do?"

"There isn't one chance in ten it will happen that way," said Dick,
"for wolves are too cowardly. When they see us rushing boldly forward
you'll notice how every beast's head will droop, and that he'll begin
to skulk away, showing his teeth, perhaps, but cowed and whipped."

"But suppose it should?" urged Roger, as they paused, just before
bursting out upon the strange scene.

"If it comes to the worst we may have to take to a tree just as the
Indian brave has done," Dick told him, "and then start to work killing
them off as fast as we can load and fire. Now, are you ready to do a
lot of yelling?"

"Just try me, that's all, Dick!"

"Come on, then, with me!"

With the words Dick sprang boldly forth from his concealment, with his
cousin alongside. Both of them started to make the woods ring with
their strong young voices, and when two healthy boys yell and whoop
they can produce a tremendous volume of sound!

Some of those predatory wolves must have conceived the idea that a
whole company of the strange two-legged foes was rushing toward them,
judging from the hasty manner of their exit from the scene. Others,
however, either more bold or hungry, half crouched and, snarling,
showed their white teeth in a vicious manner.

Evidently these leaders of the pack were not as yet quite convinced
that the game had gone against them, despite all the noise made by the
oncoming boys. On seeing this, Dick and Roger tried to shout louder
than ever, while they waved their arms in the most frantic manner.

It devolved upon Dick to decide whether or not they should keep on in
this fashion until they came to close quarters with the wolves that
lingered, loth to give up their chance of a dinner. Rushing forward
at this rate, they would be on the scene in half a dozen seconds, and
might find the ugly beasts springing up at their throats.

Never before had the boys seen wolves acting in this manner, for as a
rule their nature is cowardly. There was nothing for it but to fall
back upon their guns for the finishing stroke, and so Dick gave the
word.

"We must shoot, Roger--take that big fellow in front!" he gasped, for
he was by this time fairly out of breath after all those strenuous
exertions of running, thrashing his arms, and shouting at the top of
his voice.

Accordingly both of them halted just long enough to throw their
long-barreled rifles to their shoulders, and glance along the sights.
They could actually hear the savage snarls of the defiant pack. Roger,
always a bit faster than his companion, was the first to fire, and with
the crash of his gun the big leader of the pack sprang upward, only to
fall back again with his legs kicking.

Dick's gun spoke fast on the heels of the first report, and he, too,
succeeded in knocking over the beast his quick eye had selected.

Then with renewed shouts, Dick and Roger once more started forward, but
there was a hasty scurrying of gray bodies, and presently not a wolf
remained in sight save the pair that had gone down before the deadly
fire of the guns.

The Indian up in the tree dropped to the ground, and the boys saw
immediately from his manner of dress that he was, just as Roger had
surmised, a Sioux warrior. From the fact that he was bleeding in
various places the boys understood that he must have put up a valiant
fight at close quarters against his four-footed enemies, before finally
seeking refuge among the branches of the friendly tree.

Naturally both lads immediately began to wonder why a Sioux brave
should thus venture into the neighborhood of the Mandan village, since
the two tribes had been at knives' points for many years. Indeed, the
preceding fall, when the boys had been aided by Beaver Tail and some of
his Sioux warriors, who accompanied them later to their camp, it had
required all the tact and diplomacy of which Captain Lewis was capable
to prevent an open rupture between the old-time rivals.

"First we must make him let us look at his wounds," suggested Dick,
"because it is no child's play to have the teeth of wolves draw blood.
Some of his wounds look bad to me."

"I think you are right, Dick," agreed the other, always accustomed to
leaving the decision to his cousin. "See if you can make him understand
what we want to do. I'll get some water in my hat, so you can wash the
wounds."

The boys always made it a practice to carry certain homely remedies
with them, for in those pioneer days the family medicine chest
consisted in the main of dried herbs, and lotions made from them, all
put up by the wise housewife. Those who lived this simple life, and
were most of the time in the open air, seldom found themselves in need
of a doctor, and most of their troubles sprang either from accidents,
or injuries received in combats with wild beasts of the forest.

So it was that they had with them a salve they always used to soothe
the pain, as well as neutralize the poison injected by bites or
scratches received in struggles at close quarters with carnivorous
beasts.

The Indian was looking at them as though puzzled. Whites were rarely
seen by the dwellers in these far regions beyond the Mississippi;
indeed, most of the natives had never as yet set eyes on a paleface.

This brave, however, may have been in company with Beaver Tail, the
friendly chief, at the time he aided the two boys, and, if so, he
undoubtedly recognized Dick and Roger.

Unable to speak the Sioux tongue, of which they knew but a few words,
it would be necessary for Dick to make use of gestures in conducting
a brief conversation with the other. Still, the smile on his face,
as well as the fact of his recent acts, would readily tell the red
wanderer that he was a friend.

"Ugh! Ugh!" was all the Indian could say, but he accepted the hand that
was extended, though possibly this method of greeting was strange to
him.

Dick pressed him to sit down, and the brave did so, though with
increasing wonder. He speedily realized, however, what the white boys
meant to do, and without offering any remonstrance continued silently
to watch their labor, as they proceeded to look after his injuries.

Roger fetched his hat full of cool water from a running brook close
by, and one by one Dick washed the numerous scratches and ugly furrows
where those wolfish fangs had torn the flesh of the stoical brave's
lower limbs.

He gave no sign of flinching, though the pain must have been more than
a trifle. The boys knew enough of Indian character to feel sure that,
if it had been ten times as severe, he would have calmly endured it,
otherwise he could not have claimed the right to wear the feather they
could see in his scalplock, and which signified that he was a warrior,
or brave.

Finally the task was completed. There had been nothing further heard
from the remnant of the baffled wolf pack all this while, proving that
the loss of their powerful leaders must have taken the last bit of
courage from the animals, known never to be very brave.

All the while the Sioux continued to keep those black eyes of his glued
on Dick Armstrong. It was as though he was in search of some one and
had made up his mind that, since there could be no other paleface boys
within a thousand miles of the spot, these must be the ones he had been
commissioned to find.

Just about the time Dick, with another of his rare smiles, indicated
that the work of looking after his injuries had been completed, the
Sioux fumbled in his snake-skin ditty bag, where he kept his little
stock of pemmican, and numerous other necessary articles, perhaps his
war paint as well. To the astonishment of the boys he drew out a small
roll of birch bark, secured far to the north, and handed it to Dick.

Filled with curiosity, the boy opened it with trembling fingers, to
find, just as he had anticipated, that it was covered with a series of
queer characters, painted after the Indian fashion and representing men
and animals.

"It's Indian picture writing, you see, Roger!" Dick declared, "and must
be meant for us, or else this brave would not give it over. He has been
sent here from the far-away Sioux village to find us, and deliver a
message."

"Yes," added Roger, excitedly. "And look, Dick, there is what seems
to be the awkward but plain picture of a beaver at the end of the
message. It must have been sent by our good friend, the chief of the
Sioux."

"You are right that far, Roger, for it is meant to be the signature of
Beaver Tail, himself. Now to see if we can make out what it says!"




CHAPTER V

WHAT THE PICTURE WRITING TOLD


IT was with the utmost eagerness that the two boys studied the strange
characters depicted on the strip of bark. The hand that had drawn them
there must have been accustomed to the task, and doubtless the story
the message was meant to tell could have been easily read by the eyes
of any Indian.

Dick and his cousin had seen samples of this queer picture writing
before that time, and understood how the Indians depend on the natural
sagacity of a woodsman, whether red or white, to decipher the meaning
of the various characters. (Note 3.)

"What can it all stand for?" demanded Roger, as he gazed blankly at the
several lines of characters. "Perhaps we may have to call on some of
the Mandans in the village to explain it to us."

"We will do that in the end, anyway," Dick said, "in order to make
certain; but, if we look this over closely, right now, we may get an
idea of what Beaver Tail meant by sending it."

"You don't think then, Dick, it was intended just as a greeting to us,
so as to let us know the chief has not forgotten his young paleface
brothers?"

"No, I feel sure it has a more serious meaning than that," the other
declared. "In fact, Roger, something tells me it may be in the nature
of a warning."

"A warning, Dick! Do you mean the Sioux chief wants us to tell Captain
Lewis it will be all his life is worth to keep heading into the land of
the West, now that spring has come?"

"I was thinking only of ourselves when I said that, Roger."

"And that the warning would be for our benefit, you mean? But, Dick!
how could Beaver Tail, so far away from here, know of any danger that
hung over our heads?"

"Let us examine the bark message, and perhaps we shall learn something
that may explain the mystery. The first thing we see is what looks to
be a man facing the sun that is half hidden by the horizon."

"Yes, that hedgehog-looking half circle is meant for the sun, I can see
that. And, further along, we find it again, only on the left side of
the man who is now creeping toward it. What do you make that out to be?"

"It is plain that one represents the rising, and the other the setting
sun," Dick explained, with lines of deep thought marked across his
forehead. "Now, an Indian always faces the north when he wants to
represent the points of the compass, so it is plain that the first sun
lies in the east."

"And he wanted us to know that this man was heading into the east first
of all; is that what you mean, Dick?"

"Yes, and look closer at the figure, Roger. It is not intended to be
an Indian, you can see, for he has a hat on his head. It strikes me we
ought to know that hat, cleverly imitated here; what do you say about
it?"

"Oh! it must be the odd-looking hat that French trader, François
Lascelles, always wore, Dick. He means that it was toward the rising
sun François started last fall, just as we know happened. And now
here he is, again, the same hat and all, creeping straight toward the
_setting_ sun. Does that mean the trader came back again, in spite of
the warning Captain Lewis gave him?"

"I am sure it means that, and nothing else," replied the other, calmly.
"Stop and think, Roger. Only a little while ago, we were wondering
whether such a thing had come about, because we found reason to believe
some member of the expedition had been hired to do us an injury. Yes,
that bitter Frenchman has dared to return, believing that he can keep
out of the reach of our protectors, and manage in some way to get his
revenge."

"If that is what Beaver Tail is trying to tell us in this picture
writing, Dick, the rest of the screed must simply go on to explain it a
little further."

"You notice that the same figure with the hat occurs always," continued
Dick, as he examined the message again. "Here is what must stand for
a fire, and two persons are sitting beside it, as if cooking. In what
seems to be a clump of bushes close by he has drawn that man again,
this time lying flat."

"That must mean that François is spying on the pair by the fire,"
suggested Roger, "and as he has made both of them wear caps with 'coon
or squirrel tails dangling down behind, I think they are meant to
represent us."

"There can be no question about it," admitted the other, deeply
interested. "And, going further, we see the snake in the grass creeping
up as if he meant to surprise the two, who are now sleeping, for they
lie flat on the ground."

"Yes, even the fire burns low, for there is hardly any blaze," added
Roger, "which indicates that the hour is late. Why, Dick, we can read
the story as easily as any sign in the woods we ever tackled."

"Then comes another scene," continued Dick, "where the creeper has
evidently sprung with uplifted knife, upon his intended prey, taken
unawares. After that, we can see him crawling away, and there are two
figures lying stretched out on the ground close to the now dead fire.
That needs no explanation, Roger; François Lascelles seeks our lives,
because we baffled him in his scheme to win a fortune at the expense of
our folks at home!"

The two boys looked at each other. Their eyes may have seemed troubled,
but there was no sign of flinching about them. The lads had met too
many perils in times past to shrink, now that they were face to face
with another source of danger.

"Shall we keep on now for the camp, and show this message on the bark
to Captain Lewis?" asked Roger.

"It would be the best thing to do, for he can advise us," his companion
admitted. "Besides, he will surely order every one in the camp to keep
an eye out for François Lascelles."

"We ought to take this brave with us, Dick, because he has come a long
way, and is hardly fit to return without rest and food."

Once again did Dick endeavor to make the Sioux warrior comprehend what
he wished him to do. He urged him to get upon his feet, then thrust an
arm through that of the brave, after which he nodded his head, pointed
to the north, made gestures as though feeding himself, and then started
to walk away, still holding on to the other.

Of course it was easy for the Indian to understand that they wished
him to accompany them to their camp, where he would receive food and
attention. He simply gave a guttural grunt, nodded his head, and fell
in behind Dick, after the customary Indian method of traveling in
single file. Then they moved along, Roger bringing up the rear.

Little was said while they tramped onward, heading for the camp. Dick
occupied himself with making sure that he held to the right direction.
He also found much food for thought in the startling information that
Beaver Tail had taken the pains to send all these miles to his young
friends.

In due time they came in sight of the camp where the expedition had
passed the preceding winter. Rude cabins had sheltered them from the
cold and the snow, both of which had been quite severe in this northern
latitude. Some distance beyond lay the Mandan village, always a source
of deepest interest to the two boys. It contained so many strange
things, and the lads had never become weary of trying to understand the
ways of these "White Indians." (Note 4.)

Upon seeing the boys come in with a strange Indian in their company,
many curious glances were cast in their direction. Going straight to
the cabin where the two leaders of the expedition lived, the boys were
fortunate enough to find Captain Lewis busily engaged in making up his
log for the preceding day, though of course there was little that was
new to record.

To the surprise of the boys the Sioux Indian produced another bark
scroll from his ditty bag, which he handed to Captain Lewis. This fact
convinced Dick that the brave must have been with the party in the
fall, for he seemed to know that the white man he faced was the "big
chief."

"What does all this mean, my boys?" asked the captain, looking puzzled.

"We met with an accident in the rapids, and had to swim out," replied
Dick. "Then, on the way back to camp, we came upon this Sioux brave
in a tree with a dozen hungry wolves jumping up at him. We chased the
wolves off, and looked after his wounds, when to our surprise he handed
us this message from his chief, Beaver Tail."

The captain examined the picture writing with considerable interest.
He had been taking considerable pains since mingling with the Mandans
to understand their ways, and this crude but effective method of
communication had aroused his curiosity on numerous occasions.

"Read it to me, if you managed to make it out, Dick," he told the boy,
who only too willingly complied.

The captain frowned upon learning that, despite his solemn warning, the
French trader had returned to the neighborhood. That look boded ill for
François Lascelles, should he ever have the hard luck to be caught in
the vicinity of the camp.

The captain's own communication from the Sioux chief was merely meant
for an expression of goodwill. Two figures, one plainly a Sioux
chieftain, and the other a soldier, were seen to be grasping hands as
though in greeting. Beaver Tail by this crude method of picture writing
evidently intended to convey the meaning that he had not forgotten his
friend, the white chief, and, also, that he had kept his word that the
Sioux should remain on peaceful terms with the travelers.

"But you spoke of meeting with an accident in the rapids," Captain
Lewis presently remarked. "That is something strange for clever boys
like you to experience. Did you miscalculate the danger, or was it
something that could not be helped?"

"We closely examined our buffalo hide canoe yesterday, and it was in
perfect condition, Captain," said Dick. "Yet, with only a slight blow
against a perfectly smooth rock, it split open, and we had to jump
overboard. We managed to get through the rough water safely, and drew
the damaged boat ashore. Imagine our surprise and consternation, sir,
when we found that a sharp-pointed knife blade had been run along the
bottom of the canoe, making a deep cut that had easily given way when
we struck the rock."

"You startle me when you say that, Dick," remarked the captain, looking
uneasy, though almost immediately afterward his jaws became set in a
determined fashion, while his eyes gleamed angrily. "It must mean that
we have a traitor in the camp; some one who has been bought by the gold
of François Lascelles."

"That was what we began to fear, Captain," Dick continued, "and we
believed it only right to let you know what happened to us. We hope you
will send some of the Indians, and one of our men, for the canoe. It
could be brought secretly to the camp and examined, without the guilty
one knowing about it."

"A good idea, my boy, and one I shall act upon at once. Say nothing
to a single soul concerning this outrage. If we expect to catch the
traitor napping, he must not be put on his guard. But none of us could
feel safe, knowing we had a snake in our midst. Depend upon it, the
truth is bound to come out, and, when once we learn his identity, the
traitor will be kicked out of the camp, if nothing worse happens to
him."

With this assurance the two boys rested content. They knew Captain
Lewis was a man of his word, and felt sure that the man who had sold
his loyalty for a sum of money offered by the French trader would
before long rue the evil day he allowed himself to be thus tempted.

Soon afterward they saw Captain Clark and his companion officer in
conference, after which the former went over to the Mandan village,
and, later on, vanished in the dense forest accompanied by two stalwart
braves. They had gone, the boys knew to secure the hide canoe that told
the story of treachery in the camp.




CHAPTER VI

STALKING THE BUFFALO


ON the following day orders were given to prepare to start once more
in the direction of the beckoning West. There was not much to be done,
for, knowing that their departure would soon be ordered, the men had
for some time past been getting things in readiness.

Dick and Roger had looked their few possessions over, and were ready
to move on short notice. It gave the boys a little feeling of distress
to realize that they would be thus placing additional ground between
themselves and those dear ones left at home near the mouth of the
Missouri.

"But we have embarked on the trip," said Dick, when his chum was
speaking of this as something he did not like very much, "and must see
it through now. When we do get back home again, if we are so fortunate,
think of all the wonderful things we shall be able to describe."

The coming of Captain Lewis just then interrupted their confidential
talk. Dick expected that their leader had something of importance to
communicate, and he could give a pretty accurate guess concerning its
nature.

Sure enough, the first words spoken by the President's private
secretary explained the nature of his visit to the cabin of the
Armstrong boys.

"I had an opportunity to examine your canoe, and there can be no reason
to doubt that some unknown miscreant planned to have you lose your
lives in the rapids. It was cleverly done, and at night-time doubtless,
when no one would be apt to notice him working with your boat. The
knife went in just deep enough to weaken the whole skin of the bottom,
and only a slight blow was needed to finish the treacherous work."

"Of course you have not been able to place your hand on the guilty
party, Captain, have you?" asked Roger, eagerly.

"Nothing has been found out so far," came the reply. "One of my
reasons for joining you just now is to ask if either of you have any
suspicions. Although of course we could not accuse any one on such
grounds alone, at the same time it might narrow our search, and focus
attention on the guilty one, so that he could be watched, and caught
in the act."

"We do not feel able to say positively, Captain Lewis," said Dick,
"but when we came to look over the entire membership of the company
we finally figured it out that it must lie between three men. All the
others seemed to be above suspicion in our eyes."

"Tell me who they are, so that I can have them watched," demanded the
commander.

"There is, first of all, Drewyer, the Canadian scout. He never seemed
to be very friendly with us, for some reason or other, though we have
had no quarrel. You are surprised to hear me mention his name, because
you have always trusted him fully. And the chances are, Captain, that
Drewyer is as faithful as the needle to the pole. I only include him
because we know so little about him."

"Who is the next one you have on your list?" asked Captain Lewis. "I
count considerably on your natural sagacity to help in running this
traitor to earth. You boys have learned pretty well how to judge men
from their actions and looks, rather than from their fair speech. Tell
me the other names, please, Dick."

"Fields is the second man. I base my right to include him in the group
from the fact that there was a time when my cousin, here, and Fields
had hot words over something the trapper had been doing in the village,
and which Roger took him to task for. Since that time they have been on
speaking terms, but I do not think Fields likes us over much."

"I should regret very much to learn that Fields had turned traitor, for
I have in the past been ready to trust him to any extent," remarked
Captain Lewis.

"The third and last man is Andrew Waller," continued Dick. "Now, we
have never had a word with Andrew except in the best of ways. We have
always looked on him as a loyal friend, and faithful to the trust you
put in him. It has only been of late that both of us noticed that
Andrew seems to try to avoid us, and when we do meet face to face he
lets his eyes drop."

"That is indeed a suspicious fact," commented the other, quickly. "If
money has tempted him to play the part of a traitor it is easy to
understand how he cannot look you squarely in the eye. Conscience flays
him every time he sees you near by. I shall certainly bear in mind what
you have told me, and in due time results may spring from keeping a
close watch on the movements of these three men."

With that Captain Lewis left the boys, but they felt sure he would
not allow the matter to drop. The man whom President Jefferson had
personally selected to manage this big enterprise, and who had been his
own private secretary, was accustomed to getting results whenever he
attempted anything.

It was on the following morning that camp was broken, and the
expedition once more started forward--down the Yellowstone to the
Missouri, and up that muddy stream again. That was an event of vast
importance in the lives of those daring souls who were thus venturing
to plunge deeper into the mysteries of the country that up to then had
never known the imprint of a white man's foot.

Although filled with exultation, as were the rest of the travelers,
Dick and his cousin looked back to see the last of the weird Mandan
village which had long been a source of delight to their eyes. It was
with considerable regret that they took their farewell view of the
painted lodges, as well as the Indian cemetery on the side of the hill,
where all those platforms, bearing their mummy-like burdens wrapped in
buffalo hides, told of superstitions that were a part of the Mandan
nature.

During that day they made considerable progress, and the first camp
of the new trail was pitched on a ridge close to the river. Here the
horses were put out to graze, and the boats drawn up on the shore,
though a guard was constantly kept to insure against treachery.

Despite the apparent friendship shown by many of the Indian tribes
they encountered on their long journey of thousands of miles, the two
captains never fully put their trust in the red men. They believed
them as a rule to be treacherous, and unable to resist pilfering if
the opportunity offered. Especially was this true when the coveted
object was a horse or a "stick that spat fire," as the wonderful
"shooting-irons" of the explorers were generally called.

Several days passed with nothing to break the monotony of the journey.
Of course they often met with minor difficulties, but these were
speedily overcome by a display of that generalship which had so far
made the trip a success.

All this while the boys had not forgotten about the spy in the camp.
Without appearing to do so, they kept a watch upon the three men upon
whom suspicion had fallen. Had any one of them offered to leave camp
after nightfall, he would have been trailed by Dick and Roger, bent on
learning what could be the object of his wandering, and whether he had
an appointment with François Lascelles, the Indian trader.

But, as the days drifted along, and nothing happened, they began to
cherish hopes that perhaps the accident to their canoe had been rather
an act of vandalism and malice than part of a deep plan to bring about
their death.

A week after leaving the winter camp the party found itself on the
border of a wide plain. Dick and Roger were mounted and were on a
slight elevation down which they expected to pass to the level ground
near the river, and await the coming of the boats. From here they could
see for a considerable distance around.

"Look at the herds of buffaloes feeding here and there, Dick!"
exclaimed Roger, whose hunting instincts were easily aroused. "It
strikes me we heard Captain Clark say the fresh meat was getting low
again. What do you say to trying to knock over one or two of those fine
fellows?"

"We would have to go a considerable distance to do it, then," the other
told him, "and leave our horses in the bargain, because they are not
used to approaching such fierce-looking animals as buffalo bulls."

"But we might be lucky enough to get one or two yearlings," persisted
Roger, who dearly loved the excitement of the hunt, as well as the
taste of the well-cooked meat when meal time came. "I think we could
manage to load our animals down with the spoils, and easily reach the
place where our friends mean to camp for the night."

Dick looked around him before replying to this tempting proposal. He
remembered that they had need to use particular care while away from
the main body of explorers; but so far as indications went he could
not discover the slightest sign of danger. Certainly there was nothing
to be feared from François Lascelles out there on that wide stretch
of plains, where in various places they could see timid antelopes and
clumsy buffaloes feeding amidst the isolated stands of timber which
dotted the landscape.

"I see nothing to hinder our making the attempt, Roger," he finally
remarked.

"Then you agree, do you, Dick?" eagerly demanded the other young
explorer, as he caressed his gun, and cast a happy look over the
panorama that was spread in front of them.

"Let's figure out just where our best chance lies, before we make a
start," he was told. "We have to keep in mind that it's necessary to
hide our mounts, so we can creep up on the herd close to some motte of
timber."

The boys had more than once shot the great, shaggy animals that in
those early days abounded in countless thousands on the prairies of
the Far West. Their fathers had hunted buffaloes while on the trail
from Virginia to the banks of the Ohio when boys no older than Dick and
Roger. Hence they were familiar with the habits of the animals which
they now meant to stalk.

Choosing their course so as to keep a patch of cottonwoods between
themselves and the small herd they had picked out as their prey, the
two boys urged their horses on at a smart pace. In several quarters
they could see the swift-footed antelopes vanishing at a surprising
pace, frightened by the approach of these strange animals, bearing
riders on their backs, the like of which they possibly had never beheld
before that day.

The buffaloes, however, were not so easily alarmed. Unless they saw
an enemy for themselves, or scented something that caused them
uneasiness, they were likely to hold their ground where they chanced to
be feeding. (Note 5.)

Finally the boys decided it was no longer safe to take their horses
with them. The animals were accordingly secured in a patch of timber,
and the lads, still screened by the other motte, set forth on foot.

They had possibly a quarter of a mile to walk before reaching their
intended shelter, from the other side of which they hoped to be able
to fire upon some of the nearest of the herd. The old grass still lay
on the ground, dead and brown; but shoots of the new spring crop had
begun to thrust their heads up between. It was on this tender green
stuff that the buffaloes were browsing, and, as it grew more freely in
certain places, such a fact would account for their presence near the
timber.

The one thing Dick and Roger had to be careful about was the chance of
any straggler from the herd discovering them, and with a bellow giving
the alarm. In order to avoid this if possible, Dick and his chum bent
low as they advanced, and kept a wary lookout on either side of the
timber.

The breeze blew from the trees toward them. This fact they had made
sure of before starting, because, otherwise, such is the sense of
smell in the buffaloes they would not have had the least chance of
getting within shooting distance of the wary animals, who generally
feed facing the wind.

When finally the boys arrived at the edge of the timber they believed
everything was working as well as they could wish. As yet no sound
had come to their ears that would indicate alarm on the part of their
intended quarry; and Roger allowed himself to indulge in high hopes of
a hunters' feast that night, with buffalo meat in plenty as the main
dish.




CHAPTER VII

HUNTERS, ALL


"LOOK, Dick, we are not the only hunters," whispered Roger, as he
tugged at the sleeve of his cousin's tunic, and pointed with his rifle.

There was a slight movement in the undergrowth just ahead of them.
Dick, looking in that direction, was surprised to see a crouching
animal slink away. He instantly recognized it as a gray timber wolf,
and knew the animal must have been hiding there in hopes of seizing
upon some sort of game.

As a single wolf, however daring, would never attempt to attack a
buffalo, Dick could not understand at first what the animal meant to
do. He judged, however, that, as this was the spring of the year,
possibly there were calves in the herd, which would be just the tender
sort of food that the sleek prowler would delight to secure.

The animal drew back his lips at the boys, disclosing the cruel white
fangs; but he knew better than to attack such enemies and slunk
swiftly away. After he slid into a thicker part of the brush the boys
lost sight of him, for the time at least.

Bent upon finding a place where they could get a fair shot at such
animals as seemed best suited to their needs, the boys crept along. The
patch of timber was not of any great size, and already they could see
the open prairie between the standing trees.

Again did the keen-eyed Roger make a sudden discovery that caused
him to grip once more the arm of his companion and point. This time,
however, he did not speak even in a whisper, for they were very close
to the edge of the motte, and for all they knew some buffalo might be
lying within twenty feet of them.

What Dick saw, as he turned his eyes in the direction indicated,
surprised him very much. Apparently the tempting bait had drawn another
savage hunter to the spot in hopes of securing a meal.

It was no Indian brave who sprawled upon the lowermost limb of that
tree, but the lithe figure of a gray animal which Dick instantly
recognized as a panther, and an unusually big one at that.

The beast was staring hard at them. It did not move, or offer to attack
them, but, just as the wolf had done, it bared its teeth.

The boys were not looking for trouble with a brute of this type just
then. Food alone held their thoughts and governed their movements. On
that account Dick did a very wise thing when, drawing his companion
aside, he made a little detour.

The boys crept as softly as though born spies. Hardly a leaf fluttered
as they moved along, and certainly no stick cracked under their weight,
for these lads had long ago learned all that woodcraft could teach them.

Both cast many a curious glance to the right and to the left, as though
wondering what next they would come upon in the way of hungry, envious
beasts.

After a little while Dick turned again toward the front, and began
to make his way to the edge of the timber. He had noticed that, at a
certain point, the dead grass extended some thirty feet away from the
trees, and offered splendid shelter to any one who knew how to utilize
it.

Taking an observation after he had crawled forward to the very edge
of the timber, Dick found that the nearest animals were some little
distance away. He could count a dozen of them in sight, and there were
two small calves frisking about their mothers.

Although the grass might be exceptionally fine close up to the trees,
the temptation to feed in closer was resisted by the buffaloes. They
seemed to know by some intuition that danger was apt to lurk where
timber grew, especially for the tender calves.

In order to make sure of their shots, it was desirable for the boys to
crawl out amidst that dead grass. Dick could see that it offered the
finest kind of shelter, and, once they reached its furthermost limit,
the chances of making sure shots would be just that much enhanced.

Flattening themselves out upon the ground they crept along on their
hands and knees. An inexperienced hunter could never have performed
the task without attracting the attention of the feeding buffaloes,
and causing a stampede; but the Armstrong boys had learned how to
accomplish the feat.

Now and then a cautious observation was taken, and these glances
painted the scene vividly on the minds of the creeping boys. They could
see the coveted yearling cows that it was their object to secure, the
other, older members of the herds, and, towering above all, the old
bull who ruled the herd.

This last was a terrible object, with the shaggiest mane the boys had
ever seen on a buffalo. He showed the scars of numerous fierce battles,
and one of his short black horns had been twisted out of shape in some
former combat, so that it gave him a peculiarly wicked appearance.

Of course, when picking out their game, neither of the hunters had
the slightest idea of aiming for the patriarch of the herd. He would
be much too tough a morsel for any one to chew, unless reduced to the
point of actual starvation, when he might be preferable to slicing up
one's moccasins for soup.

The old fellow seemed to understand his business as acknowledged
guardian of the herd. He moved hither and thither, and, every once in
so often, stopped to look around him, as though in search of signs of
trouble.

Then he would shake his great head, give a proud snort of conscious
power, strike at the ground several times with one of his forefeet, and
finally go on with his feeding.

By this time the hunters had arrived at the point where to proceed
further would be to accept unnecessary risk of detection. They knew
well that, once the alarm was given, the whole herd would quickly be in
motion.

While they might possibly succeed in a shot taken at a moving target,
the chances of a miss were much greater than they cared to take. So
Dick concluded the time had come for them to pick out their quarry,
take deliberate aim, and then fire as close together as possible.

A moving form attracted their attention close to the trees. It was the
hungry wolf, possibly seeking some new shelter. If the feeding animals
noticed the gray form at all they paid little heed to his presence,
having contempt for a single wolf. It would have been at the risk of
his life for the wolf to make a dash out toward the herd. Hungry though
he probably was, the slinking beast must have known this, for, after
giving a stretch to his head, as though longingly sniffing the air, he
crept once more back into the shelter of the timber.

Roger chuckled to himself, though deep down in his boyish heart he felt
sorry for that hunger-tempted wolf. He was also thinking that, if their
plans turned out well, they would leave a feast behind sufficient to
satisfy the appetites of both panther and wolf.

One last survey Dick took of the open stretch before them. He noticed
that the old bull was sniffing the air suspiciously just then. Whether
he had caught traces of their presence, or it was the fact of the
prowling wolf that began to bother the bull, Dick could not say.

In fact, things had by now reached a stage where he did not think it
mattered. Directly before them, and in plain sight, were two of the
yearlings, one of them a fine, sturdy-looking young bull.

Dick, as soon as he clapped his eye on this animal, selected him as his
intended victim. He knew that such a prize would be a choice morsel
for the camp; and, for that reason, he meant that his aim should be
particularly sure when the moment arrived to shoot.

"Leave the young bull to me, Roger," he whispered under his breath.

"Just as you say, Dick," came the equally cautious reply, as both
rifles were brought slowly up to the boys' shoulders.

The leader of the herd stamped his forefoot angrily on the ground and
made the turf fly. Plainly his suspicions had been aroused.

Dick knew they must delay no longer. The bull acted as though about to
give the alarm that would cause the whole herd to scamper wildly off.
Now the guns were leveled, and the cheek of each hunter lay alongside
the stock.

"Ready?" asked Dick, softly.

"Yes," came the immediate reply.

"Then let go!"

Crash!

Both guns let go almost as one, and the feeding herd was thrown into a
wild panic.




CHAPTER VIII

CHARGED BY A BULL


THE first thing the boys noticed was the fact that two of the great
beasts had gone down in answer to their shots. The camp was likely to
have an abundance of fresh meat that night at least.

[Illustration: "'RUN FOR THE TREES, ROGER!' SHOUTED DICK"]

Then another thing drew their attention.

"Look at the bull!" cried Roger suddenly, as he noticed that the
guardian of the herd was plunging in their direction as though bent on
seeking a prompt revenge for the loss of his charges.

The predicament of the boys was not at all to their liking. Without a
bullet in their guns, and with a maddened bull bearing down upon them
at full speed, unless they made a rapid retreat to the timber they were
in danger of being gored and trampled by the horns and hoofs of the
beast.

"Run for the trees, Roger!" shouted Dick, as he himself turned and made
for the timber.

Fortunately they were not far from shelter. Roger had before been,
inclined to lament the fact that the mass of dead grass did not allow
them to creep closer to the game, but he changed his mind now, when
every yard counted against them.

Once Roger caught his foot somehow, and fell flat. Dick seemed to
know it, although his back was turned to his chum at the time, for
he instantly stopped in his headlong rush and whirled around. It was
his intention to stand by his comrade, come what would, to divert, if
necessary, the attention of the charging animal until such time as
Roger could gain his feet.

It turned out that the sacrifice was not needed, for, nimble as a cat,
Roger gained his feet like a flash, and, putting on a fresh spurt,
succeeded in reaching the outermost trees as soon as Dick.

They were none too soon. The galloping buffalo was close at their
heels. Had the friendly timber been ten paces further off there might
have been a different story to tell.

Each boy chose a tree behind which he tried to shield himself. The bull
rushed past, but immediately came to a halt, turned and started to
chase Roger around the tree which he had taken for a guard.

"Faster, Roger, faster!" called Dick, alarmed lest the animal overtake
the boy.

This shout caused the bull to take notice of his other enemy, and he
plunged directly toward Dick, who was compelled to make circles around
his shelter at a lively pace, in order to keep from being impaled on
those wicked-looking short black horns.

Having the inside track the boy of course was given an advantage, but
it seemed as though that tough old monster would never tire. He kept
on circling the tree, making savage prods at the legs of his intended
quarry whenever Dick lagged a little, or, slipping, fell back a step or
so.

Roger started just then to give tongue at the top of his voice,
thinking that it was not altogether fair to have the game so one-sided.
His generous intention was to attract the animal once more toward
himself; and in this he fully succeeded.

Now it was Roger who danced a tune that was far from being a stately
minuet. Lively boy that he was, that old rascal of a buffalo bull put
him to his best paces in order to keep out of danger.

Roger was hard to subdue even at such a time as this. It would have
seemed to be the part of wisdom to conserve every atom of his breath
for the work before him, yet he was continually bursting out with
shouts to his comrade.

"Did you ever see anything so mad as he is, Dick?" he called.

"Be careful, Roger; he almost got you that time, when he drove his head
against the tree. It may seem like a frolic to you, but the danger is
there all the same!"

"It's the greatest race I ever had, barring none!" gasped the other, as
he continued to dodge the horns that were forever trying to catch him
off his guard.

"Better throw your gun away, for it's likely to trip you!" advised
Dick; and hardly had the words escaped his lips than there came another
sudden change of tactics on the part of the charging bull, with Dick
again doing the dodging.

Roger took this occasion to change his tree, selecting one that offered
a little better chance for making a speedy circuit, for of course he
anticipated soon coaxing the infuriated animal to turn back on him.

There had been another reason for his change of base which was made
apparent a little later on. Dick was making splendid time around
that trunk. He also managed to keep a close watch upon his shaggy
antagonist, and was thus able to anticipate the latter when, with a
sudden stop and a whirl the bull sought to catch him napping and come
up in the rear.

"Dick, I've got a plan!" cried Roger.

"Tell me what it is then," panted the other, plainly distressed for
want of breath, for the constant struggle to avoid the horns of the
bull was telling on him.

"I must get him started after me again, you see," Roger commenced to
explain.

"Yes, of course!" Dick managed to say as he found a few seconds of
relief while the animal stood pawing the ground, and apparently
debating within his mind what course he should take next.

"I'm a little the more agile, you see," continued Roger, "and likely to
tire him out in the end, if put to it."

"All very well," Dick told him, "but where do I come in?"

"Oh! I figured on your loading your gun, and fixing him in a hurry!"
said Roger, with a laugh.

Dick even joined in that expression of merriment. Strange that up to
then neither of them seemed to have given the first thought to the fact
that he gripped a fire-arm in his hand, which it would take only a
short time to put in serviceable condition.

"Well said, Roger! and, if you can coax the old fellow to make a change
in his program, I'll look after the gun part of the affair, I promise
you."

"Look out, he's after you again, Dick!"

Dick knew that long before Roger could get the words of warning framed,
and he was speedily making his rapid circuits around the tree with the
snorting animal hot on his heels.

With the intention of carrying out his part of the arrangement Roger
now started to shout and make all manner of derisive gestures by which
he hoped to attract the attention, and excite the ire, of the raging
animal.

It was some time before this maneuver met with the success Roger hoped
for, but in the end he managed to coax the bull into making a dash
toward his tree. Thereupon Roger exerted himself to keep the animal
busy, so that Dick should not be interrupted in his task.

In order to do this the better he kept up his jeering cries, and, when
he found the chance, even made thrusts at the beast with his long gun,
once striking him smartly on the head.

The pace was beginning to tell on the buffalo. His powers of endurance
had diminished since that eventful day when in mortal combat he had
slain the old guardian of the herd, and usurped his position of trust.

Meanwhile Dick was far from being idle.

He had, as soon as the attention of the bull was diverted, swung his
powder horn around, after removing the wooden stopper, and carefully
measured out a charge. This he managed to pour down the barrel of his
rifle, after which, from the cavity in the stock of the weapon, he took
a greased patch in which the bullet was to be enclosed. After that the
ramrod was used to punch the bullet down into the interior of the long
barrel until it finally lodged snugly upon the powder charge.

Nothing remained but the priming, which was a brief matter at the most;
and Dick was gladdened by the thought that now he held in his hand the
means for terminating that ridiculous dance which the old bull was
leading Roger.

A tree interfered somewhat with his view, and Dick ran a little closer,
in order to make certain of his aim. Dropping on one knee after the
fashion of expert marksmen of the day, he waited until there came a
little lull in the mad chase.

"Now you can get him, Dick!" called Roger, between his gasps for
breath, as the bull stopped short to strike again his hoof violently
against the ground.

It was the opening the pioneer boy had been waiting for, and
immediately the long gun shot out a puff of smoke as the report
sounded. The buffalo had been hit in a vital spot, for he fell to the
ground without even one jump.

Roger started to give a triumphant shout, when he cut it short,
for something had leaped through the air; and, upon looking at the
still-quivering body of the stricken bull, what was the boy's surprise
to see a crouching figure fastened upon it, and to hear the vicious
snarl of the savage panther as, with ears pressed back against his
head, he glared defiantly at the young hunter.




CHAPTER IX

PLANNING A SURPRISE


"MORE trouble ahead!" cried Roger, starting back, for he did not fancy
a hand-to-hand conflict with that furious beast, intent on claiming the
game that had fallen to Dick's gun.

"Do nothing rash!" admonished the other, who knew the headstrong ways
of his cousin, and wished to prevent any action that might precipitate
a struggle.

"But see how the beast acts! As if he owned the earth, Dick!"

"Well, what of it?" came the steady reply, for Dick was hastening his
reloading operations while talking, something Roger did not seem to
have thought of.

"But you shot the bull, Dick," urged the other.

"Then I make of him a present to our friend, the big cat," Dick told
him. "We have quite enough meat out on the open, all we can manage.
Besides, I pity your teeth if you ever try to bite into the flesh of
that tough old rascal. Move around, and let the cat be. That's all he
asks of us."

"But, Dick, I don't like to let it seem as though the two of us were
afraid of just a hungry panther," remonstrated Roger, who was proud of
his valor.

"Oh! for that matter, there's the poor old wolf, you remember. And in a
short time the air will be black with buzzards coming to the feast from
a distance of miles around. Let good enough alone, as I've heard your
mother tell you, many's the time."

Grumbling a little, and sending more than one aggressive look backward
toward the audacious panther, Roger finally agreed to accompany his
chum out to where the other victims lay.

The rest of the herd had galloped away, and were far distant by this
time, though now lacking a gallant protector. And, lying where they
had fallen, were the yearling bull and another, for both boys had made
capital shots.

"What shall we do first?" asked Roger.

"I want to see you charge that rifle of yours before we start a single
thing," he was told bluntly by his companion.

"Oh! I had forgotten that part of the game, but you know I generally
do reload without any loss of time, Dick. I learned that long years
ago, and many a time, as I can distinctly remember, it saved me a heap
of trouble."

This duty having been accomplished, Roger waited to hear what they
were to attempt next; for as a rule he was content to let Dick do the
planning.

"While you go and fetch the horses, Roger, I'll start to cutting up
this fine young bull. You've got your bearings, of course, and know
just where we left our mounts?"

"I surely do know," the other replied, "and I'll have them here before
long. If I were you, Dick, I'd keep one eye out for that slippery beast
of a panther. For all any one can say, he may take a notion that he
prefers tender meat to tough. And that I'd call carrying the joke too
far."

"Depend on it, Roger, I'll keep my gun handy all the while, and, if Mr.
Panther gives me any trouble, I'll be tempted to waste a bullet on him.
Get back as soon as you can, that's all."

With that advice ringing in his ears Roger hurried off, while Dick,
drawing his hunting knife with the buckhorn handle, proceeded to first
remove most of the skin of the young bull, so that it could be used
to wrap around the meat. After this he started to cut away such choice
portions as he meant to keep.

Every now and then as was his habit, he raised his head to take a quick
glance around; but neither the panther nor the wolf came into sight.
Evidently the hungry animals were not excessively particular about the
tenderness of their meat, if only the supply proved sufficient.

Roger came galloping up after a bit, leading the second horse. The
animal did considerable snorting, as horses always will when they scent
freshly spilled blood; but Roger knew how to stake them out so that
they could not wander away.

After that he commenced dressing the second buffalo, also a yearling.
Since both boys had had considerable experience in this, they made fair
work, and the two piles of fresh meat mounted up by degrees.

It was just as well, for evening was not far away now, the day having
drawn on toward its close. Off yonder, in the glowing west, the sun was
sinking, and beginning to paint the fleecy white clouds a vivid red
that had strange fluted columns running up and down. To the imagination
of the two boys these were the beckoning fingers that tempted them
always, just as the rainbow for ages past has promised a pot of gold to
him who could find the spot where its foot rested on the earth.

The two bundles of meat were tied securely, and fastened to the backs
of the prancing horses. Then the boys set off, expecting to strike the
camp of the expedition along the bank of the river.

As they passed the timber they could see something of a commotion
in the place where they had had their adventure with the savage old
buffalo bull. Dozens of big bald-headed birds were sitting on dead
limbs of the trees, now dropping awkwardly down to the ground, and anon
flapping back to their perches.

"The buzzards came, just as I thought they would," remarked Dick; "but
they'll have to wait for the second table, because that cat and the
wolf must first be served. When they can hold no more they may go away
and let the poor buzzards have a chance."

Dick did not have any particular trouble in finding his bearings.
It had been indelibly impressed on his mind that the river lay to
the north, and, with the setting sun on their left, it would be no
difficult task to find the water.

He had also figured out about where the boats and the horses would
bring up when the day's toll had been taken, so that he was now making
what he would have called a bee-line for that particular place.

The sun was down behind the level horizon at last, and shadows had
begun to creep out of their hiding-places. Roger began to feel a little
anxiety concerning their hoped-for arrival at the river.

"It seems to be further than I thought," he ventured to say presently.

"Meaning the river, I suppose," remarked Dick, calmly. "Yes, I expected
that it would take us some little time to get there, because there was
a big bend just at the place we left the water, on sighting that hill
which we climbed to look around for game."

"Dick, I believe I see something that flickers ahead of us!" exclaimed
Roger just then.

"It must be the light of the fires, which as usual have been built
below the river-bank, so that their glow may not betray the camp to
hostile eyes. Yes, just as you say, Roger, we are getting there, and
will be in on time."

"Oh! as to that, Dick," said the other with a laugh, "even if supper is
started they will be sure to switch off and give this fresh buffalo
meat the first showing. But, for one, I shall be glad to rest. After
all that prancing around my tree every muscle in my legs cries out in
pain, I do believe."

They were not long in arriving at the camp, and, when the campers found
what the packages that the horses carried contained, they greeted the
newcomers with cheery words of welcome and of thanks.

It was a lively scene, with the boats drawn up on the sandy beach under
the river-bank; the horses picketed out to graze; the tents that had
been erected to serve as sleeping quarters for the company; and the
blazing fires about which the cooks were starting to cook the evening
meal. For a background to the picture there was the ever-murmuring
river, and the boys, many a time, wished they were able to send a
loving message down those hundreds of miles to the little settlement of
St. Louis, where their loved ones dwelt.

They knew that a monumental task still lay before them, since the
terrible, rocky mountains, of which they had heard vague stories from
the Indians, had to be scaled, as well as trackless wastes of desert
land crossed, before they could hope to feast their eyes on the blue
sea which was their goal.

Still, the whole summer lay before them, and they had already
surmounted so many obstacles that nothing seemed to daunt those bold
spirits. Each day's journey they counted another link in the chain,
and, having virtually burned their bridges behind them, it became a
necessity that they succeed.

The supper was finally cooked, and those who were not on duty as guards
settled down to enjoy what had been prepared. As usual Dick and Roger
found places close together, for they were chums in everything, and
liked to chat while eating.

"This pays me for all my trouble with that old bull," remarked Roger as
he munched away. "Sweeter meat I never tasted, if I do say it myself."

"Oh! I agree with you there," Dick told him. "But I find myself
wondering why Captain Lewis keeps looking over this way so often. And
then, too, it strikes me he is unusually solemn to-night. What do you
say, Roger?"

"I hadn't noticed it before," came the reply presently, "but, now that
you call my attention to the fact, I really believe you are right. He
does look as if something had gone wrong. I wonder what could have
happened while we were away this afternoon."

"We may have to take it out in guessing," Dick observed, "unless the
Captain decides to tell us about it, which is hardly likely. But the
rest of the men seem to be noisier and in better humor than usual.
There's Andrew Waller keeping a lot of them roaring with laughter as he
tells some comical story. I never saw him so lively, come to think of
it."

About the time all of them were through eating, Dick discovered that
Captain Meriwether Lewis was walking directly toward the spot where he
and his chum still sat. A couple of convenient stones had afforded them
resting places; but, as the commander of the expedition paused beside
them, both lads immediately sprang to their feet, courteously offering
the captain a seat.

"I will accept if one of you can sit tailor-fashion on the ground,"
remarked Captain Lewis, but without any sign of merriment in his
voice, for he was still looking very grave. "I want to speak with both
of you lads, and it is concerning a subject in which you are deeply
interested."

Of course that aroused their curiosity at once, and Roger lost no
time in dropping upon the sand, where he could make himself fairly
comfortable.

As soon as they were all seated again the captain began:

"While you two boys were away on your hunt this afternoon, something
happened which deepened my suspicion that we have a traitor among us.
By a mere accident I picked up a bit of paper that some one must have
drawn from his pocket unknown to himself. Glancing idly at it I was
startled at what I read."

He looked around him as though to make certain that no eye watched his
action, and then placed a small piece of paper, very much wrinkled and
soiled, in Dick's hand. Together the boys fastened their eyes on the
writing and made out the fragment of a sentence:

    "if you think it unsafe to stay longer in the camp, join us;
    but be sure and bring plenty of guns and ammunition along,
    for we need them."

There was no signature, but the boys did not doubt in the least that
the one whose hand had Penned this note of instructions was François
Lascelles or his equally rascally son, Alexis. The question was, who
could the recipient be, and how were they to find out.

"After you found this paper, Captain, you watched to see if any one
seemed to be searching for anything, I suppose?" Dick asked eagerly.

"All the afternoon I have kept on the alert, but, whoever the villain
is, he has either not discovered his loss, or else has assumed an
appearance of indifference in order to blind hostile eyes."

"But how do you suppose he could have received the message?" continued
Dick.

"That, too, may always remain a mystery," continued the other,
reflectively, "but an arrangement could have been made whereby certain
stones that were laid down in a peculiar manner would direct him to
search in a hollow stump or under a log for a letter. All we know is
that this traitor did receive his message, and started to tear it to
pieces, but on second thought kept part of the letter."

"It will be his undoing yet, sir, I think," Roger ventured to suggest.
"Too bad there was no name mentioned, so we could charge him with the
deed, and punish him as he deserves. I am wild to know who he is, for I
shall long remember how he tried to put an end to us in the rapids of
the Yellowstone."

"Perhaps you may, and that before another dawn comes," remarked the
captain, as he smiled indulgently at the headstrong boy, whom he had
come to like very much, as, indeed, he did Dick, also.

"That sounds as though you had made a plan of campaign, Captain," Dick
observed, with a pleased look that was only exceeded by the smile on
the face of his companion.

"I have laid out a little scheme which I think may work well, and trap
the guilty wretch in the toils," explained the captain. "You remember
the special mention made of guns and ammunition, which he was told to
take with him, if he really believed his usefulness in the camp had
come to an end? That gave me my clew."

"The bait will be a stock of powder and ball, and perhaps several guns,
unless I fail to catch your meaning, sir?" Dick continued.

"Before we go to sleep, to-night, I shall have three men, whose names
I need not mention, know that there are several good guns, and quite a
quantity of ammunition for them, in the supply tent where we keep our
extra provisions. It is not guarded beyond the fact that sentries are
posted outside the camp to watch for enemies. But to-night both of you
boys, together with myself and Captain Clark, will be in hiding, ready
to capture any one who ventures to enter that supply tent."

"Thank you for thinking of us, sir," exclaimed Roger, warmly.

"Why should I not do so, when the first intimation I received that
there was a traitor in the camp came through you two boys? And,
besides, you are more deeply interested in his capture and punishment
than any of the others, because this unknown spy is working hand and
glove with François Lascelles, who hates you most bitterly."

"Tell us what to do, Captain, and you can rely on our working with you
to the best of our ability," Dick assured the commander, who smiled at
him and went on to explain further.

"Understand then, that, later on, both of you, when not observed,
are to take your guns and disappear. I will look to find you in that
bunch of brush yonder to the right, and from that point we can watch
the supply tent until something happens. I think the bait will be
sufficiently attractive to tempt the man to make his move, meaning to
steal the guns and ammunition, after which he hopes to leave us in
the lurch. After we make sure that he is inside the tent, we can creep
up and face him as he comes out laden with his booty. That is enough,
since you understand," with which the captain laughingly arose to his
feet and sauntered away, leaving the boys thrilled through and through.




CHAPTER X

SPRINGING THE TRAP


"I WONDER if the plan will work?" remarked Roger, when he and Dick
once more found themselves alone, the captain having sauntered over to
where some of the men were joking, Andrew Waller being the life of the
company.

"If that torn part of a message meant anything," Dick told him, "and
Captain Lewis is able to bait the trap in the right way, I believe this
night will see the answer to the question that has been bothering us so
long."

"Meaning that we will learn who the traitor is?" continued the other.

"Yes. Right now we are no nearer the truth than a week ago, you know,
Roger. It may be any one of the three men we had in mind; or some one
else, for that matter."

"Look at Andrew Waller, Dick. He seems to be in high spirits! Do you
think that is all put on for effect? From the way he acts no one could
ever dream he had an evil thought in his heart for his comrades of the
long trail."

"As we exhausted that subject a long time ago, Roger, and have learned
nothing new since, there's no use trying to figure things out. Better
wait, and, as my father says, 'hold our horses' until the trap is
sprung--if it ever is."

"But, if we do trip him up," continued Roger, reflectively, "what do
you believe Captain Lewis will do to the wretch?"

"He has not given us even a hint on that score," Dick replied.

"If the man is a traitor, and really tried to take our lives for pay,
it seems to me it would be a shame if he were only drummed out of camp
for such things. I know what Captain Clark would do if it rested in his
hands."

"Yes, and I can guess the answer there, too, Roger; because he is a
soldier, with stern ideas of what treachery means. But Captain Lewis
has a tender heart, for all he can be so firm. He is very fond of the
men who have clung to his fortunes in this great journey into the
unknown country of the West."

"Do you really mean to say, Dick, he would forgive the rascal on that
account?" demanded Roger, with a frown of displeasure on his face.

"Not exactly that," hastily replied the other lad. "I am sure that
he would not want to trust such a man again, but, at the same time,
Captain Lewis would not believe it necessary to have the traitor shot,
as a soldier would."

"In that case there would be only one other thing to do," observed
Roger, disconsolately; "which would be to kick him out of camp, and
warn him, just as he did Lascelles, that if he ever allowed himself to
be seen near the camp again it would be at his peril."

"Mark my words, Roger, if we are lucky enough to catch the man in the
act, that is what will happen to him. But, before he goes, he will
listen to a ringing talk from Captain Lewis that will make his cheeks
burn."

"Yes, and not for all the money Lascelles ever owned would I want
to have such a fine man as Captain Lewis tell me that, as a traitor
to my trust, I had sunk down until I was beneath contempt. But I
wonder, Dick, how he will manage to let them know about the rifles and
ammunition in the supply tent?"

"Depend on it the captain has that arranged cleverly enough," Dick
declared, "and he will accomplish it without awakening any suspicion
that it has been done for a purpose."

"What shall we do next?" asked Roger.

"Wait for his signal as arranged with us," explained Dick. "When we
get that, it is our duty to slip out of camp without being noticed, and
settle down in that patch of brush, just as he said. Later on, he will
join us there, and bring Captain Clark with him."

They sat there and exchanged words for quite a long time, while the
evening waned, and some of the tired men, who had been poling or rowing
all day, began to creep into the tents, or, it might be, under rude
bough shelters, where they expected to sleep through the remainder of
the night.

"The time has come at last," said Dick, in a low tone.

"Did you see Captain Lewis make the gesture he explained to us?" asked
his chum.

"Yes, and now let us see how smartly we can carry out our part of the
game, as we laid it out in advance."

After surveying the field, the boys concluded that, by pretending to
settle down in a certain place, they could withdraw by degrees without
being noticed, and come up in the rear of the patch of bushes marked by
the commander as the meeting spot.

This maneuver was accomplished with considerable skill, because both
lads were well drilled in Indian ways, and could snake their way along
the ground as well as any painted brave on the warpath, seeking to spy
on the enemy's camp.

In due time, therefore, they crept into the bushes, and settled down
to await the coming of the two captains. Just as they expected, from
their place of hiding it was possible to keep a close watch upon the
supply tent, though the latter stood in the shadows, with the firelight
playing on one side of it only.

Slowly the minutes crept along. The boys rarely exchanged words, and
then only in the lowest of whispers; nor did they make any sort of
move, lest in some way keen eyes discover their presence amidst the
bushes.

It seemed ages before Roger pressed the arm of his cousin, and spoke in
his ear.

"Something moving behind us, Dick!"

The other had also caught a faint rustling sound, and knew that in all
probability the two captains must be about to join them. Surely enough,
in a short time the men reached the side of the boys, exercising all
the skill possible to avoid making their presence known to others.

Few words passed between them, for the plan of campaign had been laid
out, and each one knew what lay before them. The firelight flickered
upon the side of the supply tent, and it was in this quarter mostly
that their gaze was fastened. In fact, Captain Lewis and his fellow
officer depended wholly on the wide-awake boys to let them know when
anything happened, for they themselves lay stretched out at full length
upon the ground.

One by one the men sitting by the fire began to vanish, some yawning,
and others simply stretching themselves with the air of weariness
natural after a strenuous day at the oars.

Finally an atmosphere of desertion seemed to have come upon the camp.
The fire died down slowly, and not a movement could be seen. Somewhere,
near by, the appointed sentries stood guard, but their duty was
wholly in the line of making sure that an enemy did not surprise the
adventurous company from without. Those in the camp were supposed to be
above suspicion.

Roger was beginning to grow impatient. The minutes were dragging along,
so far as he was concerned, and he began to fear that, after all,
the scheme, so cleverly planned by Captain Lewis, would fail to be a
success.

What if the fellow had become suspicious, and determined not to allow
himself to be attracted by the bait? They would have their long night
vigil for nothing, and be no nearer to learning the truth than before.
Roger lacked the patience and perseverance of his chum, though he had
many good qualities of his own.

It must have been almost midnight when Dick caught sight of a shadowy
figure moving just beyond the supply tent. At first he thought it might
be a wolf that had boldly crept into the camp, though such a thing
seemed absurd; then he became satisfied that it must be a man on his
hands and knees, crawling along slowly, and heading for the isolated
tent.

When satisfied in this respect he whispered in the ear of Roger, and
touched both the recumbent captains on the arm. This had been a signal
agreed on in case of necessity, and, as they were on the alert, they
lost no time in making good use of their eyes.

The creeper was now close to the tent. Every few feet he would sink
down flat to the ground, and remain perfectly still for a time. No
doubt at such intervals the man was listening intently to discover the
slightest movement in the camp that might mean danger to him.

Both boys fairly held their breath when they saw the shadowy figure
reach the tent and hastily creep under the flap. Just how long it would
take him to find what he was after no one could say, but the time had
arrived for those who were watching the tent to make a forward move.

Fortunately the breeze started up just then, and rustled the leaves of
the trees overhead. It came from a quarter that also bore the sounds
of the fretting river, where rocky reefs impeded the progress of the
current; so that a combination of sounds helped to deaden any little
rustling noise the four watchers might make in rising to their feet and
moving forward.

Every detail had been arranged, and they made immediately for the
darker side of the tent. This was to avoid having their shadows appear
on the canvas, and arousing the suspicions of the thief.

Having taken up their positions here, they waited for what was to
follow, confident that the guilty one could not possibly escape them.

He could be heard moving around inside the tent. Once he upset some
object that fell to the ground with a soft thud, and they even heard
his low muttered exclamation of annoyance. After that all was still for
an interval, as doubtless he strained his hearing to learn whether the
sound had aroused any curiosity in the mind of a sentry.

Then the movements started again, proving that renewed confidence was
making the marauder bolder.

Dick and Roger had their guns ready, according to orders. If the man
attempted to escape after being ordered to surrender their duty would
be to shoot, although the endeavor would be to wound instead of to kill.

The movements within the tent had now ceased, and it was probable that
the man had secured all he sought to acquire. That meant his next act
would be to make his exit. Dick had not overlooked the chance of his
creeping under the canvas at the rear of the tent, and, if they failed
to see anything of him by the time another minute passed, he meant to
creep around and ascertain whether this had been attempted.

Roger, giving a faint gasp, warned his chum that some one was coming.
Then all of them caught sight of a dusky figure bending low as it crept
out of the tent.

"Stand still and surrender, or you are a dead man!" suddenly exclaimed
Captain Lewis, as, with his three companions, he stepped forward.

The thief made no attempt to run, for he knew what the result must be
when he saw those rifles in the hands of the two boys. So they pushed
up until they could make sure of his identity; and somehow neither
Roger nor Dick felt any great surprise when they discovered that the
man they had captured was Andrew Waller.




CHAPTER XI

BANISHED FROM CAMP


THE man held a couple of guns in his hands and was apparently loaded
down with the ammunition that had been left as a most attractive bait.
He hung his head as if at first overcome with a sense of shame; nor
could the boys blame him for giving way to this feeling.

Some of the other men, awakened by the loud command of Captain Lewis,
now came hurrying toward the spot. They were undoubtedly greatly
astonished to discover what was taking place. And among the first to
arrive were Drewyer and Fields, the two who in turn had been unjustly
suspected of being the guilty person.

"Take those guns away from him," ordered Captain Lewis, "and then
search him for ammunition! He was carrying off a good part of our
visible supply, and meant to join forces with those rascally Frenchmen
we let go last fall, fellows who are once more hanging about our trail
for evil purposes."

Waller made no attempt to resist. Indeed, it would have been a foolish
thing on his part, and could only have resulted in his being roughly
treated. So presently they had stripped him of all his stolen goods,
and even his own gun had been taken away.

After that he had to listen to the stinging words of reproach which
Captain Lewis heaped upon him.

"The man who betrays his trust as you have done, Waller," said the
other in conclusion, "deserves to be stood up before a file of soldiers
and shot. That fate, indeed, would be your portion if you were an
enlisted man, and had taken the oath of fidelity to the country. As it
is I intend simply to send you out of this camp with the scorn of all
honest men ringing in your ears. You can find those French friends of
yours and make your bed with them."

"But you will not think of turning me out into the wilderness without
some weapon with which to secure food, or to protect myself against
the wild beasts?" the man found his tongue to say, with anxiety in his
voice.

"Gun you shall have none, in punishment for your offense," he was
sternly told. "Your hunting knife and a hatchet will be given to you,
also a certain amount of provisions, sufficient to last you several
days. For the rest, look you to those friends whose gold you accepted
to betray these lads; for we can now understand who it was knifed their
skin boat so that it might sink with them in the rapids!"

The man at bay opened his mouth as though tempted to declare that he
had had nothing to do with such a base affair; but, on second thought,
he stifled his intended denial. He must have decided that, since
exposure had come, the less he had to say the better it would be for
him in the end.

Under the orders of Captain Lewis his knife and hatchet were returned
to him. Then a package of food was made ready and also given into
his charge. Some of the men were grumbling to themselves, as though
they did not approve of such leniency, for, according to their way of
thinking, a traitor deserved but one punishment, and one that would
place it out of his power to repeat his fault.

The man did not attempt to plead for mercy. He had a certain amount of
pride; and, besides, he feared lest he be turned over to the soldiers
for punishment, and he knew what to expect in that case.

"Now go forth," Captain Lewis told him, "and seek your new friends, or
join the Indians whose treacherous ways you have even shamed by your
acts. We warn you not to be seen again by any in this camp. Such is
your reward for turning against those who trusted you. That is all."

Waller drew a long breath. He knew what it meant for him, should he
fail to find the Frenchmen. Hundreds of miles lay between that spot and
the nearest white settlement; and, unless he could get in touch with
some of the Indian tribes along the Missouri, he would starve by the
time another winter came around.

Being a woodsman, Waller of course knew many of the secrets of Nature,
and could prolong his life by means of clever snares in which to catch
small animals; but, with the coming of cold weather, his case would be
pitiful unless he had help.

Dick felt sorry for the man at first. He believed Waller had simply
yielded to temptation when he accepted the Frenchman's gold and agreed
to work in his interest.

That feeling, however, did not last long, for, as the man started to
leave the camp, he looked at the staring men contemptuously, and, on
passing the two boys, scowled blackly, as the light of the resurrected
fire disclosed.

"We may meet again!" he told Roger as he passed him; and there was a
deep significance back of the words.

Perhaps it was fortunate for Andrew Waller that Captain Clark did not
happen to hear what he muttered; for the soldier might have insisted
that some more drastic punishment, than mere dismissal from the camp,
be visited upon the culprit. But the threat was not heard by those in
authority, and Waller went out into the darkness, and they saw no more
of him for the time.

During the remainder of the night the boys slept peacefully. It was a
great satisfaction to them both to feel that the mystery had now been
solved, and that they need no longer fear treachery in the camp.

Then again it pleased Dick to know that neither Drewyer nor Fields had
been connected with the plot against them, for he was very fond of
both men, in a way, and had always believed them to be as honest as
they were capable. History has written their names on the scroll of
honor whereby the heroes of this remarkable enterprise are ever to be
remembered.

On the following morning the journey was resumed. Day succeeded day,
and in many particulars they were very much alike. The travelers
had difficulties to surmount, and often met with delays that were
exasperating; but through it all shone that indomitable spirit that
would not admit defeat.

"We have come too far to quit now," Captain Lewis would say when they
were facing some new difficulty, "and the only thing to do is to push
ahead despite temporary checks. The goal will soon be in sight, and the
victory won. Then will come the reward when all men honor our names,
and give us our meed of praise. It will be worth all it costs to win
the thanks of the whole nation."

In this manner he cheered them when their spirits drooped. There never
could have been a finer leader for such a tremendous undertaking than
the former private secretary of President Jefferson. Every man in all
that company felt that he would willingly go through fire and flood for
Captain Lewis.

From time to time they met with Indians on the river, or came to some
village on the bank. These natives had never as yet seen white men, and
were, as a rule, disposed to be friendly. They seemed to have learned
about a Great Father far away toward the rising sun, who was very rich
and powerful, and whose favor it might pay them to seek.

Among the trappers connected with the party there were always those
who could communicate with the Indians, partly by signs, but also with
the aid of other and allied Indian tongues. In this way, then, it was
possible to learn much concerning the nature of the country toward the
west.

Strange, indeed, were many of the stories that came to the ears of the
travelers. They heard of burning deserts, where for ten days they would
find nothing but wastes of sand, except for a few cacti, or prickly
pears. Here they were likely to leave their bones to the vultures and
the prowling coyotes--the latter a small species of the wolf tribe,
which the men of the expedition had begun to notice collecting about
their camp at nights. These animals kept up a miserable chant in
chorus, but they possessed a very cowardly nature, quite unlike the
gray timber wolf.

If Captain Lewis and his followers had not possessed stout hearts they
would have been dismayed by all they heard of the country lying beyond.
The mountains reached above the clouds, rearing themselves in a most
forbidding way, and were exceedingly rocky and devoid of vegetation.

Besides, there were tribes of fierce Indians living in the deep canyons
who would lie in wait to overwhelm the pilgrims in hopes of obtaining
their horses and those wonderful sticks that spat out fire. The beasts
inhabiting those elevations were also awe inspiring, especially the
bears, which, as the travelers already knew, were of the ferocious
variety known as grizzlies.

In spite of all these thrilling stories there was no disposition
manifested on the part of the explorers to back down. They had already
met many perils without flinching, and it was too late now to show the
white feather.

The summer was now well along, and, before a great while, they could
expect to arrive at the headwaters of the Big Muddy. The two captains
had decided that, when it was no longer possible to continue with
the boats, they would make a permanent camp, where a portion of the
expedition could spend the coming winter, while a certain number
pushed on, to cross the rocky barrier and reach the sea, if such an
accomplishment could be carried out.

Every day began to see changes in the flowing current upon which they
had been voyaging for so many months. Remembering its extreme width,
down where their homes were located, it was hard indeed for the boys to
believe that this narrow ribbon of clear water was the same stream.

"All that its banks hold these days," Dick had explained to Roger when
the other was expressing these ideas, "comes from the melting snows
away up in those mountains whose tops we sometimes think we can see
far, far away to the west. That is why it is so clear and cold, and the
fish we catch now are not like the ones we have often brought in to our
mothers at home."

"The beautiful one, with the specks that were all the colors of the
rainbow, must have been some kind of trout," Roger continued, his face
lighting up eagerly, for he was a born angler, "and I only hope we are
able to catch many more of the same kind. I never tasted such a fine
fish, and the meat was of the true trout color, too."

"I think we can depend on taking many a fine mess of them from now on,"
Dick continued, "though we must try to find out from the Indians just
where they lurk in the river. Perhaps one of these smaller creeks,
that empty into the Missouri, may turn out to be a good place."

"To-morrow will be our chance then," Roger announced, "because I heard
Captain Clark tell some of the men we would likely hold over for a day,
so as to mend one of the boats that has been leaking badly and needs
attention."

"Let us consider it settled that way, then, Roger; and we shall see
what sort of luck the best of bait will fetch us. In some of the old
stumps and dead wood we can find big, fat grubs, which I am sure the
fish will take to savagely."

"I mean to start looking for bait this very evening when we make camp,"
declared Roger, evincing the greatest interest, for the memory of the
feast they had enjoyed when that splendid speckled fish was broiled
over the red coals had haunted him ever since.

That afternoon the air was unusually clear, and every one was able to
see, off in the distance, the lofty peaks of the mountain barrier which
must be scaled by the adventurous travelers before they could hope to
reach the slopes, on the west, leading down to the blue waters of the
Pacific. Somehow the knowledge that on this summer day they had almost
arrived at another positive stage of their great undertaking inspired
their hearts with fresh hope. And in that cheering atmosphere camp was
made when the shadows began to fall.




CHAPTER XII

ON FISHING BENT


"IF you think you can get on without me, Dick, I'd like to slip away
for a little time," Roger was saying, after the boats had been run
ashore, the horses tethered among the trees, and preparations for
supper, with an attendant air of bustle, were well underway.

Of course Dick knew what was in the wind. He had not forgotten the
remark made by his comrade that, if the chances were favorable, he
meant to spend half an hour or so that evening collecting worms and
grubs to be used as bait when they tried their luck at fishing on the
next day.

"To be sure I can," he told Roger, with a smile. "All you have to do is
to trot along with your hatchet, and something to put the grubs in--if
you find any."

"Oh! I'm not afraid of being left in the lurch there," asserted Roger,
stoutly. "I can see plenty of signs of dead wood around here. A fierce
storm must have swept across this section many years ago, that leveled
plenty of big trees, which are now rotting on the ground. Grubs like
to hide in that sort of decayed stuff. Look for me by the time it gets
dusk."

"Keep your gun near you, and it would be better not to stray too
far away from the camp," warned cautious Dick, speaking on general
principles.

"You don't believe there's any danger lurking near by, do you?" asked
Roger, though failing to show much concern, for his nature was daring
and fearless.

"Nothing more than we always count on," the other told him. "But white
men who are in a strange country must always figure on finding an enemy
hiding back of some tree or rock, so keep your eyes about you, Roger.
If I should hear your gun sound, or catch a hullo, depend on me to come
in a hurry."

Roger only laughed, for he did not believe any peril could lurk so
close to the camp. Still, accustomed to being on his guard, he made
it a point to see that the powder was in the pan as he tucked his gun
under his arm and strode forth.

He found to his relief that there were plenty of old stumps and
rotting logs close to where the fires had been started, so that he need
not go any great distance away in order to begin his search.

His hatchet was soon brought into play, as he smashed some of the
likely looking remnants of once proud forest monarchs. It required
little muscular effort, scattering the soft punk-like wood, and, hardly
had the boy obtained a fair start, than with a satisfied little cry he
reached down and seized an enormous white grub whose home in the heart
of the decayed stump he had broken open.

Just as Roger had anticipated, a rich harvest awaited him. Sometimes he
came upon half a dozen prizes in one stump, and it was not long before
he knew that, before the darkness became too dense for him to see how
to work, he would have secured all the bait they could possibly use on
the following morning.

At any rate, they would always have their hatchets with them,
and, should their supply run low, there would be plenty of other
opportunities to replenish their store.

So it was that he returned to camp much sooner than Dick in his most
sanguine moments had imagined possible. There was hardly any need to
ask Roger how his quest had turned out, for the broad smile on his
tanned face told the story.

"A noble lot of fish lure," assented Dick, when he had examined the
contents of the small box into which Roger had also cast a handful of
powdered dead wood, in which his prisoners could conceal themselves. "I
must say you struck it rich this time."

"And, unless the weather goes against us when morning comes," continued
Roger, as he fastened up the box so that nothing could get at the bait
during the night, "we ought to do some tall fishing, it strikes me. I'd
just like to give the whole camp a splendid treat to those beauties of
speckled rainbow fish which we believe to be a species of trout."

All evening long the subject was frequently in his mind, for Roger was
one of those persistent persons who, once they have planned anything,
can think of little else.

"I tell you what I mean to do after we've had our breakfast," he said
at one time during the evening.

"All right," remarked Dick, who knew how useless it was to try to keep
Roger's mind off his fishing, "suppose you do then, and I'll jot it
down in my notebook, for I'm making up my day's log, you see. Go on and
tell me."

"If you look over there, Dick, you can see that friendly Indian who has
insisted on sticking to us for two days now, walking along the shore,
squatting close to our fires, and watching everything we do as though
he was head over heels in love with the ways of the palefaces."

"Yes, I've often wondered what he could be thinking about," admitted
Dick. "I've seen Captain Lewis trying to talk with him by signs, and
often calling one of the men up to help out. From that I judged the
Indian might be giving him some valuable information, which was why
they allow him to tag after us so long, and even see that he gets his
share of food at meal times."

"Well," continued Roger, "my idea is to go over to him now, and see if
he can understand that we'd like to have him tell us about a good place
for fishing in the morning; for, after all, what's the use of waiting
until breakfast time; he might be gone in the night. What do you say to
it, Dick?"

"Not a bad scheme," his chum assented. "And, do you know, I think the
brave has taken some little interest in both of us, because a number of
times it seemed to me he was watching us closely. There's your chance
now, for that matter, Roger; and, if you find it too hard to make him
understand, get Jasper Williams, our good friend, to act as interpreter
for you."

Upon that the impulsive Roger scrambled to his feet and presently he
could be seen sitting close to the friendly Indian brave, engaging him
in a strange conversation in which hands and smiles took the place of
words.

Apparently, Roger finally found the task greater than he could manage,
for he called to genial Jasper Williams, who joined them. Then the
business of explaining to the dusky son of the wilderness was taken up
anew; and with fair success, if the look on Roger's boyish face meant
anything.

When he once more rejoined his chum he was fairly bubbling over with
enthusiasm, so that Dick was not at all surprised to hear him exclaim:

"The finest of luck ever, Dick! Would you believe it? that brave tells
us there is a small stream emptying into the Missouri a couple of miles
above the camp, and that it is reckoned the best place for those big
fat trout around this section of the country."

"That is good news, indeed," remarked Dick, also pleased. "So we can
look forward to supplying the camp with a mess of fish, if all goes
well."

"Not only did he tell us that," continued the eager lad, "but he agreed
to go along with us, and show where the best holes lie; for in hot
weather, you know, all trout leave the shallows and gather in the deep,
dark pools. If we didn't know just where those places were we might
waste a lot of time trying."

At the time Dick thought they were very fortunate to be able to command
the services of the friendly Indian, and he mentioned this belief to
Roger.

"He seems to have taken a great fancy to the whites, and, no matter if
he does eat like a hungry dog, we must not complain. He will hardly
wish to go much further from his own people, and we may expect to wake
up some fine morning to find that the brave has slipped off during the
night."

"So long as he does not steal one of our horses or guns nobody will
complain, I guess," chuckled Roger. "These Indians are a light-fingered
set, take them all in all, and Jasper Williams says he never would
trust one out of his sight."

Having made all their fishing arrangements the boys soon afterwards
sought their shelter made from branches, and wrapped in their blankets
tried to find sleep.

The camp was governed with military strictness, and there were sentries
on duty all through the night, for Captain Clark had this part of the
arrangements in charge. Not once up to this time had they been taken
by surprise, though on several occasions roving bands of Blackfeet or
Dacotahs had tried to steal their horses, only to meet with failure.

Securely guarded in this manner, they passed the night in peace, and so
another dawn found them. As usual the travelers were early astir, for
there were no laggards among them. Every man had his duties to perform,
and strict discipline kept them to their various tasks.

Roger of course was about the first one up, though he knew that Dick
could not be coaxed to make a start until he had performed every one
of his duties as was his custom. If the fish were as plentiful as the
friendly Indian had declared, they would have abundance of time to take
heavy toll of their number long before noon came around.

"We decided to take one of the smaller boats if it could be spared,
you remember, Dick," Roger was saying as they ate breakfast.

"Yes," the other replied, "and I've already mentioned that to Captain
Clark, who gave me full permission to do so. This is certainly one of
the times we would enjoy having that buffalo-hide Indian boat we shot
the rapids in. I was beginning to think we ought to change our minds
about giving it away, when that accident happened, and ruined it for
hard work."

"Accident!" echoed Roger. "We knew different after we found where that
sharp knife-blade had been run along the bottom almost through the
tough hide. But that sly dog of an Andrew Waller paid dearly for his
work. I wonder what became of him; whether he joined the French trader
and his son, or went over to the Indians."

"We may never know," his chum admitted. "For my part, I hope and trust
that neither of us will ever set eyes on Waller again. I did not like
the look he gave us when he went out of camp that day; and, like all
guilty wretches caught in the act of doing wrong, he blames us for his
troubles."

In good time Dick announced that he was ready to make the start. Roger
saw to it that they had the bait. Stout poles had also been secured, to
the end of which the fishing lines were fastened. Such things as reels
those pioneer lads never knew. When a prize was hooked it was their
business to land the captive in the speediest way possible; and, as a
rule, this consisted in swinging the struggling trout over their heads
on to the land.

The Indian was hovering nearby. Dick fancied that he looked very eager,
as though he quite enjoyed the idea of accompanying the pair on their
fishing trip, and making himself useful. Perhaps, the boy thought, the
poor fellow wished to attach himself to the expedition, on account of
the charm it had for his untutored mind; for Indians could feel the
desire for adventure such as urged these bold white men to penetrate
farther day by day into the unknown country.

The boys picked out the boat best adapted to their needs, and which
could be most easily spared. Beckoning to the Indian, the boys prepared
to push out on the river. Two paddles were to be the means of urging
the light craft against the strong current of the river, and an hour's
time would be ample to see them to their destination, Roger thought,
as he commenced to wield the spruce blade vigorously.

Jasper Williams called out a last word of caution as they passed away,
up the stream, for he felt a strong interest in these boys with whose
fortunes he had been so intimately connected.

"Keep your eyes about you, lads," was what he told them, "and don't
trust everything you see, just because it looks innocent. There's a
difference between red and white, remember. Good luck to you both!"

Others also called out, begging the boys to remember that they too
liked a mess of fresh fish; and, with these friendly voices ringing in
their ears, Dick and Roger paddled swiftly up the river, soon losing
sight of the explorer's camp.




CHAPTER XIII

GLORIOUS SPORT WITH THE TROUT


WITH lusty strokes the two boys urged the boat up-stream. The Indian
sat amidship and seemed to be scanning the shore as though deeply
interested in everything he saw; though, from what he told Jasper
Williams, the locality must have been familiar to him, since he knew
all about the fishing to be had in the smaller stream.

Now and then the boys exchanged a few words, though as a rule they kept
most of their "wind," as Roger called it, for their arduous work.

"I wonder what Jasper Williams meant," remarked Roger, after they had
gone possibly a full mile.

"Of course you mean when he said there was a difference between red and
white," Dick suggested. "I was thinking of the same thing myself, and
came to the conclusion it must have been Jasper's way of telling us to
keep an eye on our dusky pilot here. In plain words, he warned us to
look out for our guns."

"Which we will certainly be sure to do!" commented Roger. "Though,
after all, we may be wronging the poor Indian by our suspicions."

"If he never knows it there can be no harm done, don't you see?" Dick
told him.

Various things about the shore attracted their attention just then, and
for the time being they forgot all about the red man, and the warning
given by their old frontiersman friend, Jasper Williams.

"The farther we go up the river," Dick was saying, "the greater the
forests seem to become. From all I've been able to learn, we will pass
through many a stretch of wood before we reach the foot of the big
mountains."

"Yes," added Roger, "and, as the river is getting more and more shallow
every day, Captain Lewis seems to believe we must soon abandon our
boats, and take to the horses for the rest of the journey."

"Look up ahead and on the left, you will see signs of a stream coming
into the Missouri. That must be where we are to stop."

At that Dick made gestures to the Indian, who, quickly comprehending
what was wanted, nodded his head in the affirmative.

"Yes, he says that is the place," Roger observed, as he started to put
still a little more vim into his strokes with the paddle, so, as Dick
was compelled to follow suit, or have the boat headed in toward the
shore, their progress increased to a wonderful degree.

In good time they reached the mouth of the tributary stream. It was
found to be as clear and cold as any one could wish on a warm day. No
wonder, Roger thought, the trout loved to frequent its waters, and lie
in the deep, dark pools that doubtless existed here and there, though
without a guide they could have been found only after much patient
searching.

Obeying the gestures of the Indian, they made for the shore and left
the boat, first making sure that it was pulled well up. Of course,
besides their poles and the little box of bait, they carried their
faithful guns along with them.

So far as they could see, the friendly Indian seemed to be almost
as deeply interested in the outcome of the fishing trip as the boys
themselves were. He immediately led them to a certain spot on the bank,
holding up a hand to impress upon them the need of caution and silence
when attempting to catch the wary fish of many colors.

Roger was already prepared, for he had fastened one of the largest and
most attractive grubs to his hook. Creeping up close to the edge of the
bank he thrust his long pole carefully forward, and allowed the baited
hook, with a small lead sinker attached to the line a foot above, to
sink into the depths.

As it slowly descended Roger's heart was beating tumultuously,
for he had been entertaining high hopes. These were not doomed to
disappointment, for, even before he found bottom, there was a sudden
vicious tug, and the end of the stout pole began to move up and down
vigorously.

Immediately Roger, who had laid his gun down at his feet so as to have
the free use of both hands, hunched his shoulders in the effort to lift
his prize. As it came struggling out of the water, he switched it high
in the air and it fell with a thud some little distance behind the
excited fisherman. At this good luck Roger could hardly contain himself.

A warning "hist" from Dick told him to repress the shout of triumph
that was bubbling to his lips, and he realized the necessity for
silence if they expected to continue the sport, as the trout are
easily alarmed.

The capture proved to be a magnificent specimen of the lovely variety
of trout that differed from anything either of the boys had ever seen
before. In later years this vigorous species of fighter was classified,
and given the deserved name of "rainbow trout," and for a very good
reason, as any one who has ever seen one fresh drawn from the water
will admit.

Meanwhile Dick started in to try his luck, and it certainly began to
look as though the Indian had told only the truth when he said the fish
lay in countless numbers in those deep shadowy pools, for, just as had
happened in Roger's case, there was a fierce pull on his pole, and Dick
found himself struggling with a captive that it required all his powers
to land successfully.

So the sport progressed, the friendly Indian hovering near them and
often, when the bites came less frequently, leading the way to some new
spot on the bank, where another pool would be found.

Always did they find these places inhabited by a hungry family of
trout, eager to snap at the attractive lure which was dangled in front
of them.

The Indian gathered up the spoils as they went along. He knew just how
to fashion a tether out of tough but yielding willow, and, when half a
dozen of the trout had been strung in this manner, he saw to it that
they were placed in the water to keep fresh, while the sport continued
as before.

Roger was enjoying himself as he had hardly ever done before. Such
royal fishing, and such game fighters made a combination that ought
to have been sufficient to fill any boy's heart with supreme joy,
especially one so devoted to the sport as Roger had always been.

Dick did not lose his head over the wonderful success that was coming
their way. Because Roger gave himself up so wholly to the excitement
was a very good reason why Dick himself should do the watching for both
of them.

And yet it seemed almost absurd to suspect that anything evil could be
threatening them on that bright summer morning. The very insects seemed
to hum more noisily than usual, as though with the pleasure of living
on such a perfect day.

Dick often cast a side glance toward the Indian, but so far he had seen
absolutely nothing suspicious in his manner. He seemed to be as happy
as Roger, and kept close to the heels of the boy as he worked his long
rod, and added constantly to the number of fish he was taking.

It seemed as though each one of the grubs was good for a fat trout, and
so savagely did the fish snap at them that they were securely hooked in
nearly every instance, so that the losses were next to nothing.

If things continued to go on as they were doing, they would soon be
in possession of all the fish the camp could use. Roger even told his
chum in a whisper that, unless they looked out, they would be unable to
carry the whole of their taking back in one trip of the boat, though
possibly that was only meant in the light of a boast.

Dick's arms were beginning to ache on account of the strain on the
muscles caused by raising so many heavy prizes over his head. He would
have suggested that they had quite a large mess now, and perhaps had
better go back to camp, allowing some of the others the pleasure of
coming up later and trying their luck; but he knew Roger well enough
to feel sure that the other would decline to quit fishing as long as a
single grub remained.

At any rate, when the supply was really exhausted, Dick meant to
decline to linger any longer, or to look for a new lot of bait.

For the moment the fish seemed to have stopped biting.

"We have only about six more grubs left, Dick," said Roger, after
examining the contents of the bait box, "and that ought to mean as many
fish, if the Indian guide knows of still another good hole. I'm going
to try to ask him. And, Dick, I promise you on my word of honor that
I'll agree to quit when we use up the last bait. I can see that you're
getting tired. You never were as crazy over the sport as I have always
been."

"It's a bargain then, Roger," assented the other, pleased to know that
his comrade meant to be reasonable about it, for he had half-expected
trouble in trying to tear the other away from such a fascinating game.

Roger accordingly began to make motions to the Indian, and the other
must have understood what he wanted, for he nodded his head, and
beckoned to them to follow where he led.

Dick would rather have remained where he stood, but he did not wish
to have Roger go off alone with the Indian brave, so he went along.
He thought the copper-colored visitor at the camp showed even more
eagerness than at any previous time in the immediate past, as though
he had been keeping the finest place of all to the last, in order to
further astonish them.

Indeed, when Dick saw Roger drag out a trout that exceeded all the rest
in size and fierceness he decided that he had guessed the true reason
for that look he had detected on the usually emotionless face of the
brave.

Again did Roger drop his baited hook in, and with a similar result. He
was fairly trembling with the excitement, and, too, a little weariness;
but according to his count there still remained four more grubs, and
the work must proceed. As Dick seemed bent on letting him finish the
tale, Roger, nothing averse, set to work to get his hook in readiness
once more.

The spot was a picturesque one. Several large trees grew close to the
edge of the stream, casting their shadows upon the water just where the
deep pool lay. In the dusky depth the trout were lying, and hungry at
that. Dick could not remember of ever having seen such a combination
of scenery and splendid fishing grounds, and he believed the memory of
that day would always be marked with a white stone in their lives.

It certainly was destined to be remembered, but not on these accounts
alone. There were other reasons why the pioneer boys would look back to
that sunny day and conjure up ghosts of the past.

Roger was making good his boast that he meant to take six fish with
those half dozen grubs, for already a third one had been pulled in.

The Indian, apparently just as deeply interested in the sport as Roger
himself, was hanging at the boy's elbow, and every now and then making
gestures as though showing him where to drop his hook the next time.
It seemed as though his wonderful eyes were able to pierce those dark
depths and discover where the largest fish was lazily working his fins,
as he faced the current, waiting for something suited to his taste to
come within striking distance.

There was nothing at all suspicious about this, and Dick was beginning
to believe the vague fears that had oppressed him must have been the
result of too much imagination, when without the slightest warning
something happened.

He saw a dark object drop from the branches of the tree directly upon
the back and shoulders of poor Roger, who was instantly carried to the
ground. Dick's first inclination was to give a shout, and raise his
gun, for he had seen their dusky guide pounce upon the weapon which
Roger had laid on the grass at his feet.

Before Dick could make a move, however, he too felt a heavy weight
strike him on the shoulders so that he was knocked to his back; and, as
he lay there gasping for breath, he looked up into the painted faces of
several Indian warriors who came dropping from the trees as though they
were over-ripe plums in a gale of wind.

After all, the supposed friendly Indian had played them false, and had
actually led the two boys into a cleverly arranged ambuscade.




CHAPTER XIV

PRISONERS OF THE DACOTAHS


DICK knew the folly of resistance when he saw that, besides the two
warriors who held him down, there were half a dozen others nearby.
Roger, always impulsive and headstrong, was struggling desperately,
though without the slightest chance of breaking away from his captors.
Understanding what was taking place close by, Dick called out:

"Give up, Roger; it is foolish to fight against such odds. You will
only be hurt for your pains, and nothing gained. Leave it all to me!"

Not only did Roger hear these words, but his own good sense told him
the wisdom of yielding to overwhelming numbers. But it was always a
difficult thing for Roger to believe in the old saying to the effect
that "he who fights and runs away may live to fight another day."

After being disarmed the two boys were allowed to get upon their feet.
They discovered that their dusky captors undoubtedly belonged to
the same tribe as their treacherous guide, and, therefore, must be
Dacotahs. That guide was clutching Roger's gun as though he expected to
retain it as the price of his labors in thus entering the camp of the
strange "palefaces," and luring the two boys into the trap so cunningly
contrived.

Dick was far from downcast. It took considerable to make him feel as
though everything were dark around him. And, in order to cheer Roger
up, as well as to arouse his interest in planning an escape, the first
remark Dick made was in the line of an attempt to guess how it had all
been planned.

"Look, they are marking a smoke now," he told his companion, as several
of their captors struck flint and steel together, and with the spark
thus generated started a fire in a little pile of greenish-looking wood.

"That must be meant for a signal to some one who is away from here,"
Roger commented, on observing what was going on. "Dick, what does all
this mean? You are always good at hitting on the truth while I grope in
the dark. Why do you think these Indians want to make us prisoners?"

"It was a trap, you understand, Roger?"

"Oh! yes, that's as plain as can be," replied the other, readily
enough; "for they were all hiding up in these trees while we kept on
fishing so merrily, without dreaming that we were being watched every
minute of the time."

"And, Roger, the guide led us into the mess; now we can understand why
he was so eager to fetch us up here."

"Then you believe, do you, Dick, he planned this thing; that perhaps he
even entered our camp with such a game in his mind?"

"It begins to look that way, I am sorry to say," Dick replied.

"But can he be in the pay of that revengeful Frenchman, François
Lascelles?" demanded Roger, rather appalled by the thought.

"We will soon know, because, unless I am mistaken, that smoke they are
sending up yonder is meant to call him here. And it would not surprise
me very much, Roger, if that brave who has been eating at our campfire
for two days, crept out last night and told how he had been engaged to
take us to this stream to-day. That would account for the Indians being
concealed here."

The boys were without weapons, and could do nothing toward the making
of their escape; so they waited with what patience they could command
to see what was about to happen.

Shortly afterwards some one was seen approaching, at sight of whom
Roger gave utterance to an exclamation of disgust.

"Why, after all, it's that skunk, Andrew Waller!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, he must have found some way to get in with these Indians, and
they have been working for his interests," Dick suggested. "Perhaps
he has lied to them, and made them believe we are two very important
persons. He may take the trouble to explain the thing to us, thinking
it will add to his glory."

"I can see the look of satisfaction on his face from here," said Roger,
in a surly tone, as though it cut him to the quick to have the traitor
triumph over them in that way.

Waller soon arrived on the scene, and his first act was to look
insolently into the faces of the two boys.

"So, you fell to the bait, did you, boys? When I told you we would meet
again you didn't believe it would be so soon. And let me say that you
are going to be in a pretty pickle after this. These Indians will make
sure that you do not slip through their hands."

"What have you been telling them about us?" demanded Roger,
impetuously. "Some big lie I am sure, for it would be just like you."

The man frowned as though angry, and Dick feared he was about to strike
the bold boy a blow in the face, which would have precipitated a fight
in which Roger would have gone down to defeat. However, Waller managed
to keep his temper in control, and sneering again, went on to say:

"Oh! to make sure that you would be held a close prisoner, I merely
told them that you boys were the sons of the Big White Father away
off in the Land of the Rising Sun; and that if they held you safe
they could demand a great ransom in wampum, sticks-that-shoot-fire,
and everything that the heart of an Indian could wish. In other words
I have cooked your goose for you. You may be sure you will never be
allowed to go free."

He turned his back on them and commenced talking with one of the
Dacotahs, who, from the feathers in his black hair, seemed to be some
sort of sub-chief. Much of the conversation was carried on by gestures,
in which Waller seemed to be unusually expert.

Dick watched closely in the hope that he might be able to catch the
drift of what was passing between the two. That he and Roger were the
objects under consideration he had not the slightest doubt, for several
times one or the other pointed toward the spot where they stood.

"Can you make it out at all, Dick?" Roger asked.

"I am sorry to say it's more than I've been able to understand, Roger;
but I think he's telling the chief again how valuable we are as prizes.
And to think we have no way of proving to him that we are only ordinary
boys, without rich fathers to pay a big ransom. It is just the sort of
game we might have expected Andrew Waller to play."

The man who had been sent out of the camp of the explorers now
approached them again. He was rubbing his hands as though in great glee.

"Now, I shall not only have my pick of two good guns, but plenty
of ammunition for them, in spite of Captain Lewis. I am going to
say good-by to you here, for I have to meet M'sieu Lascelles at an
appointed rendezvous. Oh! he will be very much pleased when he learns
how the Dacotahs prize the boys he hates so bitterly, and mean to carry
them off to their villages, far to the north, there to keep them until
the big ransom arrives. It tickles me to know how soon my debt to you
has been so nicely cancelled."

Roger gritted his teeth, but he managed to keep from saying anything.

"Just as you told us when you were leaving camp, we may meet again,
Andrew Waller," Dick said, with an unmistakable meaning in his voice.

"Oh! that is possible," the other jauntily added, purposely
misunderstanding what the boy meant; "for it may be M'sieu Lascelles,
he would wish to see for himself that you are comfortable, so for that
reason we might journey into the Dacotah country ourselves."

With that thrust he waved his hand to them, and, turning, walked
away as he had come. None of the Indians paid the least heed to his
movements; but Roger almost choked in his indignation.

"Just to think, Dick," he muttered in a quivering voice, "the beast
is carrying my dear old gun which he took from our red guide, on his
shoulder. How much I will miss it, because, ever since I've been able
to look along the sights of a rifle, that gun has been my companion day
and night."

"We shall hope that in some way or other you will see it again," Dick
told him. "Even if not, there are others just as sure shooters at the
camp. The one he used to own, and which they refused to let him carry
off, is even a better-made weapon than yours."

"Yes, but that gun has associations away above its value in money,"
said Roger, heaving a sigh; "and at the best the chances of my ever
handling it again are three against one."

"Well, we must try to think of other things now," Dick told him.

"You mean about escaping from our captors, don't you, Dick? What if we
can convince them that Waller is a man with a double tongue, and that
what he told them about our being the sons of the Great White Father at
Washington is only a package of lies?"

"Of course we can try, but I'm afraid it will be useless, because the
Indians want to believe that wonderful story. See how all of them are
examining my gun now. I suppose every one of them is picturing himself
as owning just such a marvelous weapon that 'spits out fire,' and kills
the game just as thunder and lightning do in the storm."

"What do you think they expect to do with us now?" asked Roger.

"They will not want to stay here much longer," affirmed Dick, "because
they are afraid of the 'palefaces with their thunder sticks.'
Consequently, they will start off toward their village, which we
understand lies several days' journey away from here toward the
northwest."

"But, when we fail to come back to-day, Captain Lewis is bound to
send some of his best trackers up here to learn what happened to us.
And, Dick, surely they will try to follow our captors, and effect our
rescue."

"Listen, Roger. We must not leave it all to them. These cunning red men
know how to cover a trail so that the keenest eye cannot find a trace.
Depend on it, they will leave no stone unturned to hide the tracks we
make. And then, besides, do we not know that the summer is already
beginning to wane?"

"Yes, yes, all that is only too true, Dick. Captain Lewis understands
there is no time to spare, with those terrible mountains yet to be
scaled, and also black deserts to cross, and all before snow flies. I
am much afraid he will decide that the success of the whole undertaking
would be put in peril should he detach any of his men to engage in a
wild goose hunt for us."

"We two have before this been in positions of peril," said Dick,
firmly, with a flash in his eyes that aroused new hope in the breast
of his chum; "and always, in times that are past, have we succeeded in
saving ourselves. So let us keep up our spirits and watch constantly
for a chance to give these Indians the slip."

"If we should find the opportunity," said Roger, immediately, "I hope
we manage to get hold of your gun, and our hatchets and knives. To lose
my good shooting-iron is bad enough, but that knife, you know, has
served me since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. Promise me you will
do your level best to save our side-arms if we find a way to escape,
Dick!"

To this entreaty Dick assented. Indeed, he knew well enough that it was
their only policy to go away armed rather than in a helpless condition.

Shortly afterwards they were given to understand, through grunts and
gestures, that the march was about to be taken up. With several Indians
stalking along in single file ahead, and others bringing up the rear
the two boys had to turn their backs upon the "Big Muddy" and start
upon the long journey into the Northwest, at the end of which lay the
Dacotah village.




CHAPTER XV

WHEN STOUT HEARTS WERE NECESSARY


"WE have covered a good many miles since starting, Dick, and I hope
they soon show signs of stopping for the night."

The afternoon was getting well along when Roger made this remark to his
cousin. His tone had a vein of complaint in it, for, although Roger
could tramp through the woods all day and feel it but little, he did
not like being forced to do the walking against his will.

Another thing that fretted the boy was the fact that every furlong
passed over carried them further away from their friends of the
expedition, the only whites, saving the French traders, within hundreds
of miles.

Dick had begun to notice this growing feeling of irritation on the
part of his comrade. He himself could look trouble in the face without
flinching, and he now concluded it was time to cheer up Roger's
drooping spirits.

"No question but that they intend to pull up pretty soon, Roger," he
said, as he trudged along close to the other's elbow. "In fact, I've
noticed some of them looking about as if they expected to reach a good
camp-ground at any minute. They were tired at the time they lay in wait
for us, and must have come a long way."

"Of course you noticed, Dick, that two of the braves stayed behind
when we left the river, though they did catch up with us several hours
afterwards?"

"Yes, and it is not difficult to guess what their part in the retreat
was," replied Dick. "They remained to conceal every trace of moccasined
feet, so that it would have to be a mighty good tracker who could tell
what had happened there on the bank of the small stream."

"Yes, and of course they've blinded our trail in the bargain every now
and then on the way," continued Roger, ruefully. "Three separate times
did we walk for half a mile in shallow water, and leave the creek on
the stones, so there would be no sign left after the sun and wind dried
the wet marks. It was the old Indian trick that we know so well."

"I tried my best to leave a plain track," added Dick, "but the braves
coming behind must have seen me do it, and made sure to cover it."

"What do you believe Captain Lewis will do about it?" asked Roger, he
himself having pondered on this subject without coming to a conclusion.

"When we fail to return to the camp of course they will send some of
the men up to look the ground over," Dick answered, thoughtfully. "The
disappearance of the friendly Indian will give them a clew. Then they
are apt to find some of the trout that were left behind fastened to the
willow withes."

"I hope they enjoy them," muttered Roger, with a grimace, for he could
not help remembering how his mouth had fairly watered with anticipation
of the treat he had expected to have that evening.

"I've been wondering, myself, how it came that the Indians overlooked
taking the fish," continued Dick, "and the only thing I can see is that
they were so anxious to get on the move before any of the white men
came along with those terrible 'fire-shooting-sticks,' that they forgot
about it."

"Yes," Roger added, "and that treacherous chap who guided us into the
trap was so taken up looking over your gun, which Waller had turned
over to him, that he forgot all about the fish, too. Well, I hope they
are found, and will make a fine supper for the men."

"It has clouded up, and looks a little as if we might have a storm of
some kind before morning breaks," went on Dick.

"More trouble if that happens," grumbled the other, glancing up at the
heavens to verify his comrade's statement.

"Don't be too sure of that," Dick told him. "It may turn out to be a
great help to us, for all we know, and give us a chance to make our
escape."

"What, do you think that, after all, some of the trailers among our
friends will be able to follow us, and take these Indians by surprise?"
asked Roger.

Dick, however, shook his head at this.

"To tell you the truth, Roger," he observed, "I'm afraid we can count
on no such help from our friends, even if they could discover our
trail, which is much in doubt."

"But why not?" demanded the other. "Captain Lewis thinks a lot of us,
and he is hardly the man to desert a friend, Dick."

"Every word of that is true," his chum assured him. "There never could
be a finer man than Captain Lewis; but stop and think, Roger; he
is not on business of his own now, but bent on carrying out a great
exploring expedition that was sanctioned by Congress, and backed by
President Jefferson himself. Every day counts in the spelling of
success; a delay here might ruin all their plans."

Roger nodded his head, as though he grasped the idea.

"Yes, I can see what you mean, Dick," he admitted, slowly and
regretfully, "and I guess you are right. Much as Captain Lewis himself
might want to lay over and send a party of his men out in search of us,
his duty binds him the other way. He will have to go on, and leave us
to our fate."

"Well, we have been able to take care of ourselves lots of times before
now, Roger, and why not again?"

Somehow his last words seemed to arouse the dormant spirit of
confidence in the other. Roger gritted his teeth, while his eyes
flashed defiantly.

"You're right, Dick, we have done plenty of things before, and can
again," he declared with a ring in his voice that Dick liked to hear.
"Our fathers never showed the white feather when they faced troubles
just as bad, and why should we? How many times have we listened to
them tell how they followed that band of Iroquois Indians ever so far
into the North, and rescued their sister Kate, who had been carried
away.[3] I'm done with repining, Dick; from now on you'll find me
different."

"Then to-night, when we are in camp, we must try to outwit these red
rascals. Even now I have something of a plan in my mind. And you may
be sure that every mile we covered I kept tally of the direction, so I
know just how to go in order to reach the Missouri again."

"You shame me, Dick," frankly admitted the other boy; "to know that,
while I've been fretting and complaining, thinking only of our
troubles, you were keeping track of such things as would help us get
back to our friends."

A little later on, Dick, who seemed to keep his eyes constantly on the
alert, once more spoke to his comrade.

"There's something brewing, as sure as you live, Roger," he said; "for
the Indians are consulting together in hushed tones, and examining the
ground as if they had run across some tracks there that excited them."

"Can it be game, and they are being tempted to start on a hunt?" asked
Roger.

"Two-footed game, then," replied the other boy, "for I can see there
are moccasin tracks all around. Of course, as the different tribes make
moccasins after their tribal way, it's easy for these Dacotahs to know
the others are not of their kind."

"They certainly do act as if they suspected there might be a breath
of danger hanging around, Dick. Do you know whether the Sioux and the
Dacotahs are enemies or not?"

"They have been in the past," acknowledged Dick; "but I know the print
of a Sioux moccasin, and these are different, Roger."

"Perhaps Shoshones. You remember Captain Lewis told us we were likely
to run upon some of that warlike tribe at any time now. Yes, and he
remarked that, as a rule, they were enemies to the Blackfeet, Crows,
Flat Heads, Dacotahs, and nearly every other tribe up in the Northwest."

"I shouldn't be surprised if you have hit on the truth, Roger, and
that this war party turns out to be fierce Shoshones. Our good friend,
Captain Lewis, said he hoped to make friends of them, since we must
pass through their country before striking the great mountains."

"There, we are going on again, Dick, but notice how the braves keep
looking to the right and to the left, as if they feared an ambush. The
Shoshones must be a fierce lot of fighters, or else be in overpowering
numbers."

"I think, if I can read an Indian's mind," said Dick presently, "these
braves will make an early camp. If they start a fire at all it will be
only a small one without smoke, and hidden in a hole, so that its light
will not betray them."

"Then there's a poor chance for supper, I take it," grumbled Roger,
who, having a splendid appetite, did not fancy going hungry, or chewing
on a tough piece of pemmican, or jerked venison.

"You often complain of things being dull, Roger; but I am sure you must
admit there's no lack of excitement for us now. We are prisoners in the
hands of the hostile Indians; there is a storm threatening; and now
comes a chance that, before morning, the camp may be attacked by these
Shoshones who are out looking for plunder and scalps."

"If they should come, Dick, what do you suppose would happen to us?"

Roger felt rather anxious, for he had heard it said that among Indians
it was the custom to kill their prisoners rather than have them
rescued, or taken away by a rival tribe.

"If I can carry out my plans," Dick assured him, "I don't mean to wait
until the camp is attacked. I'd like to be miles on the way back to the
river before that comes to pass, if it really does."

"There, I think we are going to pull up at last," ventured Roger, as
he saw the leading Indians halt, and begin to look around as though to
make sure that no enemy lurked in the neighboring woods.

It was a well-chosen spot for a concealed camp. A shallow depression,
very like a large bowl, offered them a chance to build a small fire
without any risk of the blaze being seen; and, so far as smoke was
concerned, those dusky sons of the forest could be counted on to select
such wood that there would not be sent up the slightest column of vapor
to betray them.

Roger, still watching, soon uttered a low cry of satisfaction.

"See, Dick, they do mean to have a little cooking-fire!" he exclaimed;
"and that means we may get some supper after all. So far they have
shown us no particular ill will, and treated us half-way decently."

"That comes of being taken for the sons of the Great White Father
at Washington," remarked Dick, with a chuckle that told that his
spirits had not been crushed even though the future looked so dark
and forbidding. "It is a high honor that has come to us, Roger, to be
reckoned President Jefferson's own boys!"

Roger, however, was more interested in what was going on about the
little fire than anything else. He observed just how the expert braves
formed a small pyramid, and then used the flint and steel to start a
tiny blaze.

"Yes, one of them is unwrapping that bundle he carries, Dick," the boy
went on to say, "and, just as I expected, it contains some freshly
killed venison. Oh! it's going to be all right, and we are due for some
supper, I reckon."

But Dick was thinking of other things than eating just then. He
surveyed with a critical eye the lowering sky, and wondered if a storm
was about to break upon them before morning came.

FOOTNOTE:

[3] See "The Pioneer Boys on the Great Lakes."




CHAPTER XVI

THE ESCAPE


THE two prisoners had been made to sit down, and were under constant
surveillance. It would not have been possible for them to make any move
looking to escape without being immediately detected. Dick realized the
foolishness of such an attempt, and made no effort for the time being.

Those eyes of his noted everything that was going on around him, for he
knew the time was approaching when utter darkness would come, and, if
they expected to make a move, memory must take the place of sight.

Just as Roger had been hoping, the Indians cooked some of the venison,
though in a primitive fashion. Numerous pieces, as they were sliced
from the haunch, were impaled on the ends of long slivers of wood, and
the latter thrust into the earth in such fashion that the meat received
the full heat of the little fire.

Of course, when cooked it was also partly burned, but this made no
difference to any one who was really hungry. The two boys were glad to
receive their share of the venison, and devoured it eagerly.

"Of course they'll tie us up, as Indians always do their prisoners,
Dick?" suggested Roger, while they were still munching at the food
provided by their captors.

"There's no doubt about that," the other told him. "Already I have
noticed one of the warriors looking over some long deerskin thongs, and
then glancing in our direction. I think they are only waiting until we
get through eating."

"Then for one I mean to keep at it as long as I can," affirmed Roger;
"because I never did like the idea of being tied to a tree. I suppose
that is what they mean to do with us, Dick."

"We'll soon know, Roger, and, now that I have the chance, I want to
tell you about the little scheme I have in my mind."

"I wish you would!" hastily exclaimed the other; "and I hope it will
turn out to be a success."

"You may remember," began Dick, "that I have hands that somehow I can
double up into a very small compass. Many a time you've tried to
fasten my wrists together to see if I could get my hands free, and in
nearly every case I did the trick by stretching the thongs a little,
and then slipping a hand out."

"Oh! now I begin to see what you hope to do, Dick; and, let me tell
you, the skies look brighter already. I'm sure you can set your hands
free, if only it doesn't stop at that."

"One step at a time, Roger; we mustn't expect to run before we can
walk. Once my hands are loose, it will be a queer thing if in some way
I fail to set both of us free. But here comes several of the Indians
this way, as though they mean to trice us up. Better hurry and eat that
last bit of meat, if you wouldn't lose it."

"I suppose I'd better," grumbled Roger, "but I don't see why they want
to be in such a dreadful hurry about tying us up. Ugh! a whole night of
standing against a tree is something I don't like at all."

It turned out just as Dick had said, for the Indians indicated by signs
that they wished the two boys to stand up and back against a couple of
trees that happened to grow close together.

From the way in which the deerskin thongs were used to tie the captives
to the trees it was evident that the braves had had long practice at
this art. When they had used up all the hide rope, Dick and Roger were
indeed in a helpless position, being bound hand and foot.

"This is about as hard as anything we ever went through, Dick,"
remarked Roger, after the Indians had finished their task and left them
there.

"Yes, that is very true, Roger, but I want to tell you that I can move
one of my hands, and I'm starting to stretch this buckskin thong. After
a short time I believe I can get my hands free."

"That's good news; and what next, Dick?"

"If only that brave doesn't happen to remember that he stuck his knife
into my tree right here, and return to possess himself of it, why,
don't you see how fortunate that is going to turn out for us?"

"A knife so close to your hands once you get them free--that would be
simply glorious, Dick. And I'm going to keep hoping that warrior has no
need for his blade during the whole night."

"I believe I can reach it," continued Dick, twisting his head around to
take another look at the coveted weapon; "and if I do, one slash will
cut this buckskin rope. After that, you can depend on me to jump over
to your side. But keep on working your hands all you can, Roger, for
the looser your bonds are the better in the end."

The night was by now closing in around them.

Some time before the fire had been carefully extinguished, water being
thrown on the burning embers to hasten its end. Dick, still watching
the actions of the Indians, soon saw they were taking extra precautions
against a surprise. From all of the signs the boys concluded that these
Dacotahs had good reason to fear the coming of the hostile war party.

"I've got an idea," he told Roger in following out this train of
thought, "that not so very long back the Dacotahs must have made a raid
on the lodges of the Shoshone tribe, and done more or less damage.
Somehow they act to me as if guilty."

"And, Dick, if ever the two parties do clash, there will be a lively
time of it, we can be sure," Roger in turn remarked. "These braves seem
to be a picked lot, as far as I can tell, and ought to put up a good
fight, even if outnumbered."

"While I've never watched a real battle between two war parties of
Indians," observed Dick, "I must say I'm not dying with curiosity to
see one. I only hope we have a chance to get away from here before it
happens. And, Roger, another thing--I'm keeping an eye on that fellow
who is carrying my gun. He has placed it, together with the powder-horn
and bullet-pouch, on that log yonder, you notice."

"Now it is queer that I hadn't noticed such a thing, Dick!"

"Simply because you waste so much time bothering about our hard luck,
when you might just as well be using eyes and ears to learn something
worth while," the other boy told him. "Now, if only I can manage to
snatch up my gun and other fixings when we leave here, it will make me
happy, I can tell you."

The minutes dragged along slowly to the two boys. When an hour, and
then two, had passed, Roger was beginning to complain again, for it was
weary work being forced to stand in this way upon their feet.

By this time the Indians had ceased their low droning talk. Only one of
them was still sitting there cross-legged, smoking his red clay pipe.
Dick did not doubt that somewhere in the gloom one or two sentries,
or videttes, had been posted, in order to guard against a surprise in
every way possible, though of course he could not see the first sign of
their presence.

Only the customary sounds of a summer night in the wilderness came to
the ears of the captive pioneer boys. Most of these were very familiar
to them, on account of their habit for years of spending nights out of
doors.

Still, somehow, things did not seem quite the same as usual. It was
different listening to the hoot of the owl, the croak of the night
heron, the complaint of the tree-frog calling for more rain, or even
the barking of a red fox somewhere in the forest, when tied up in this
way, and facing such a gloomy outlook.

"Dick," whispered Roger, "isn't it nearly time?"

"Not yet," replied the other in the same cautious manner, "hold your
horses, and have patience, Roger. Another hour or two must go by before
I dare start in."

Poor impatient Roger groaned, and relapsed into silence again. Oh! how
time did drag along. It seemed to the boy he would go fairly wild,
waiting for something to break that terrible monotony.

There were no stars overhead by means of which they could tell how the
night was wearing on. Dick had to resort to other means by which to
mark the passage of time; still he knew fairly well when the hour of
midnight approached.

Meanwhile Roger had finally fallen asleep, uncomfortable as his
position was. Dick could just manage to see, by straining his eyes,
that his chum's head had fallen forward upon his chest, as though tired
Nature had overcome him.

Dick concluded that there was no use waiting any longer to put his plan
into operation. Everything about the camp seemed silent, and, although
he took a desperate chance, the boy believed he would gain nothing by
further delay.

His initial act was to draw first one hand and then the other from the
stretched buckskin thongs. Then turning as best he could he reached out
toward the knife the Indian who had helped tie them to the tree had
left sticking there, even with the boy's head.

What a thrill passed through Dick's whole frame as his eager hand
touched that welcome blade. Its buckhorn handle, too, felt very
familiar, and he was almost sure it would turn out to be the
hunting-knife Roger valued so highly because of the associations
connected with it.

As it possessed a keen edge, he found no difficulty in bending down
and severing his bonds. After that he stopped and listened, but there
was nothing to indicate that his actions had been discovered. The owl
had commenced his mournful hooting again; and the tree-frog piped up
louder than ever, Dick noticed with considerable satisfaction, for he
hoped the sounds would muffle any slight noise he would chance to make.

Now he turned to set Roger free. He hoped in his heart that, upon being
aroused, Roger would not utter an exclamation. With this possibility in
mind Dick very cautiously crept over to the other tree.

He could hear Roger's heavy breathing, showing that the boy still
slept. With great care Dick raised himself until he could put his lips
close to the other's ear, when he whispered:

"Roger, wake up, but keep very still! I am going to cut your bonds now!"

The boy gave a great start, but fortunately he did not attempt to
answer. He comprehended instantly what the situation was, and knew the
necessity for silence.

Already Dick's hands were seeking for the deerskin thongs that bound
the wrists of his comrade to the tree. As soon as he had made certain,
the pressure of the sharp blade instantly severed the restraining
cords and set Roger's hands free.

All that remained now was to do the same service with regard to the
hide rope that went around Roger's waist, and then around his ankles
further down. After that they could listen for a minute, to make sure
they had not been heard, and then depart from the hostile camp on hands
and knees, creeping stealthily along like a couple of snakes.

So far Dick's cleverly arranged plan had worked admirably. If the
rest proved to be as easy of accomplishment they could congratulate
themselves on having done a big thing, with credit to their education
in the line of border cunning.

Dick had just finished severing the last of the bonds, and Roger was
in the act of stepping forward, when something suddenly occurred that
thrilled both boys to the heart, as well as put a different aspect on
their method of hasty departure.

From some place back in the woods a little way a loud and singular
whoop rang forth. Dick believed that it must be intended as a signal
announcing an attack; for, hardly had it ceased to ring through the
aisles of the forest, than a deafening chorus of wild yells rang
forth, together with the rush of many bodies crashing through the
underwood and advancing from every direction toward the camp of the
Dacotahs.




CHAPTER XVII

SHELTER IN A HOLLOW TREE


"IT is the Shoshone war-cry!" exclaimed Roger, instinctively, as he
heard the piercing, bubbling sound that must have been uttered with a
hand to the mouth.

Dick seized hold of his chum. He realized that any delay now might
prove very costly for them both.

"We must get away from here!" he cried, thinking of what Roger had said
concerning the savage ways of the Indians, and how they often preferred
killing their prisoners to letting them be set free, or taken by a
hostile tribe.

"Your gun, Dick?" asked Roger, breathlessly.

"I mean to make a grab for it," replied the other, who was already
moving off.

Then it was that his careful survey of the surroundings came into play,
for Dick had made a mental map upon which he could depend when utter
darkness lay upon the earth.

Roger, still hearkening to the dreadful sounds that were bursting out
all about them, felt his companion duck down, and he judged that they
must be alongside the log on which the gun with the ammunition had been
placed by the Indian who had led them into the trap.

And, somehow, Roger guessed that success had come to his chum, even
though he himself could not see anything of the gun. Again he was being
half dragged along, as though Dick had chosen his course, and was
trying to follow it.

Their one idea now was to get away from the camp, and let the hostile
red men have their fight out to the bitter end. Small affair it was
of the boys whether the Dacotahs whipped the Shoshones, or the latter
overwhelmed the braves who had been the captors of the young pioneers.

Skillful maneuvering was necessary in order to avoid contact with
any of the furious warriors. The boys heard the sound of blows being
struck, and their lively imaginations could picture what was occurring
nearby, as they slipped along through the darkness.

Fortune was kind to them, after all, for they did not strike against a
single dusky figure, although several times they had to sink close to
the ground when they heard the rush of moccasined feet close at hand.

Now the noise of the desperate hand-to-hand conflict was behind them,
Roger noticed with a feeling of great relief. He could hear not only
the war cries of those who fought, but occasionally there also came
sounds of darker import, such as were probably the death chants of
those who were bound for the "happy hunting grounds" of the red men. As
they gradually put all this horrible clamor further and further behind
them, the two boys felt their own spirits rise higher. The attack of
the Shoshones had come just in the nick of time to help the young
pioneers. It had served to cover their escape as nothing else could
have done.

Roger was panting for breath, because of the excitement as well as his
strenuous actions. He had knocked into more than one tree, but without
so far seriously hurting himself; and as usual the boy felt that he
must give tongue to the feelings of wild delight that were rioting
through his veins.

"We did it, Dick, for a fact; gave them the slip!" he burst forth.

"It looks that way, Roger."

"And now all we have to do is to get our bearings, and make a fresh
start for the river; isn't it?" continued Roger, anxiously.

"That's all, Roger," he was assured. "And already I feel that we are on
the right course, so we'll keep along as we're going now."

"But the fight seems to be over with," added Roger. "At any rate all
the yells have stopped. I wonder whether the Dacotahs whipped, or were
overpowered by their foes? Though for that matter we care mighty little
how it turned out."

"Since neither of them were our friends," Dick admitted, "we had no
interest in the outcome of the forest battle. It was a case of dog
eat dog with us; and I only hope we'll run across no more of the red
rascals until we rejoin our party."

"How far do you mean to go before stopping, Dick?"

Roger was getting a little tired when he asked this question. They had
both had a hard day of it, beside the standing for several hours in a
cramped position tied to the trees.

"I think we ought to keep on for at least an hour more," Dick told
him, "even if it does pull hard. By then we'll have reached a point
where the Indians who turn out to be victors can hardly find us in the
morning, even if they happen to bother making the search. So keep up
your spirits, Roger, for we've got a heap to be thankful for."

"I'm sure of that, Dick, and I hope you didn't think I was complaining
just now. You'll find me good for an hour's tramp in the dark, or
two of them, for that matter. Then for a few hours' sleep before day
breaks."

"It may be the storm will swoop down on us before then, and force us
to change our plans. So, after a while, we must keep a lookout for
some sort of shelter, such as a hollow tree. It wouldn't be the first
time we have lain in such a snug nook when the rain was coming down in
bucketfuls."

"I should say it wasn't!" declared Roger, and from that time on he
seemed to have picked up a new supply of energy, for he uttered no
further complaint as he struggled on at the side of his companion.

No matter how slowly the minutes passed, Roger realized that the
conditions were vastly different from what they seemed earlier in the
night; when tied to that tree the gloom around him was no thicker than
the state of his feelings.

Dick finally came to a halt. Perhaps the hour had not fully passed,
but he believed they had put enough ground behind them to feel safe.
Besides, he had made a discovery that he fancied ought to be utilized.

Either the night had grown lighter, as though the moon might have
arisen, and was shining back of the heavy clouds, or else the eyes of
the boys, in growing accustomed to the darkness, allowed them to see
things better.

"I've noticed several trees of good size as we came along, Roger," he
told his chum; "and if only we can find one that is hollow, we need go
no further until morning."

At that the other laughed as though pleased.

"If that's all we need, Dick, how would this one over here do for our
purposes?" and, speaking in this way, he directed the attention of his
chum to a tree not far away.

It was an unusually big tree, and both of them could see, though a
bit uncertainly, that it had some sort of cavity at its base. A hasty
examination convinced them they had found just what they were looking
for.

"We can creep in through that hole easily enough," said Roger, "because
it's big enough for a giant to pass through. I hope though, Dick, it
doesn't turn out to be the den of any wild beast."

"We can soon settle that!" declared Dick, as he took up a long stick,
over which he had just tripped, and thrust it in through the opening.

As no sound of surly remonstrance followed this action on his part, it
became evident that the hollow tree was not occupied by any animal.

"If it is a den there's nobody at home right now," announced Roger; "so
we can crawl through the doorway and settle down."

After his customary impetuous fashion he insisted on being the one to
lead the way, and was quickly inside the hollow tree.

"How do you find it?" asked Dick, thrusting his head through the
opening.

"There seems to be plenty of room for two in here," was the quick
reply; "and, although I don't just fancy the odor, still I think we
could do worse, especially if it comes on to rain hard."

Upon hearing this Dick hastened to creep through the hole, carrying his
gun with him of course. He had something on his mind, apparently, for
hardly had he reached the side of the other boy than Dick thrust his
gun into Roger's hands, remarking:

"I noticed an old stump just outside there, and I'd better go and roll
it up, so as to cover this opening, more or less."

"Then you must be thinking that some animal may come in here, and you
mean to block the passage so we will not be taken by surprise; is that
it?"

"Nothing less, Roger," Dick replied, as he started to crawl out again.

"If I can help you, let me know," called out Roger.

The stump did not prove to be very weighty, and Dick rolled it deftly
so that it covered all but a small fraction of the opening. Then he
crept inside, and the two of them had little trouble in closing most of
the remainder of the aperture.

"Well, to tell you the honest truth," admitted Roger, when this
undertaking had been completed, though plenty of air could still find
ingress, "I do feel a whole lot better, now that we've shut the door.
It can't be very pleasant to lie down to sleep in a hollow tree that
may be a panther's lair, and to wake up to find the savage beast coming
in on you."

Dick was as satisfied as his companion, even if less vociferous about
it.

"I guess that stump will make a good enough door," he went on to say,
chuckling, "and if we wake up to hear some one knocking, we can ask who
it is before we open up. Just as you say, it makes us feel more secure."

Satisfied with the way things were going Roger soon settled down to
make himself as comfortable as the conditions allowed.

"Perhaps this isn't as sweet and easy a bed as my own at home," he
remarked, after yawning several times; "but then, as my mother always
says, 'beggars mustn't be choosers.' And I can remember many a time
when I've slept in worse places than a hollow tree."

"Remember before you go to sleep, Roger, it's understood that the one
who happens to hear anything suspicious is to wake the other up. If you
feel me touch you on the arm and hear me whisper, keep as still as a
church mouse. It may mean that Indians are outside, and looking for us."

"I'll recollect, Dick, you can depend on it; and, if the tables should
be turned, so that I am the one to get wind of the danger first, I'll
do the same to you. So now, let's go to sleep."

Roger found very little trouble in putting his words into practice, and
in a few minutes Dick heard him breathing heavily.

As he felt very much inclined that way himself, Dick made no effort
to hold back sleep, and in a short time both lads were fast locked in
slumber.

Some time passed, just how long neither of them really knew, when
Dick felt a violent tug at his arm. He was wide-awake instantly, and
understood just where he was, as well as what the jerk signified.

"What is it?" he whispered, as he felt for his gun the first thing, as
though its touch would give him renewed confidence.

"Something or somebody is moving around outside, Dick," whispered Roger.

"Hist! listen!" remarked Dick, softly.

There was a slight scuffling sound, and the stump at the opening moved
violently. Then came the loud sniffing of some animal that was trying
to thrust its nose through a very small crevice and, apparently, could
not understand why the door was closed.

"It must be a bear," said Dick, no longer keeping his voice confined to
a whisper, but speaking aloud, "and this is his den. He wonders what
has happened, and it may be he scents us, for he's trying to push his
way in!"




CHAPTER XVIII

THE STORM


ROGER was considerably relieved when he heard his chum say this with
so much confidence. A bear might be troublesome, but it was not to be
compared with an Indian, for the latter was likely to have allies close
at hand who could be summoned by a signal whoop.

"Do you think the beast can move the stump?" he asked Dick, at the same
time feeling for his knife, which the other had turned over to Roger on
discovering that it was really his property.

"He is trying hard to do so," replied Dick.

"Just listen how he keeps on sniffing at that crack," continued the
other boy. "He knows that somebody has taken to his hollow tree, and he
doesn't seem to like it at all. How about giving him a shot, Dick? At
such close range you could easily knock him over."

Dick, however, had his own ideas about that. At least, he did not make
any preparations for the shot.

"To tell you the truth, Roger," he finally explained, "I'd rather not
waste my powder and ball on the old fellow. He'd be too tough for us to
use as food, and besides, the sound of the report might bring some of
the Indians down on us."

"I suppose you are right, Dick," commented Roger; "but it looks as
if we might have to do something to frighten the bear away. There
he starts again, trying to thrust the stump aside, and as sure as
anything, Dick, the breach is getting a little wider every time he
works at it."

"It seems so," agreed Dick, "and, as you say, we ought to do something
to put a stop to his scratching and dragging. Wait a minute, I've an
idea I can fix it!"

With these words he put his long rifle behind him so that it was safe
in Roger's hands. In case of actual necessity the latter would know
what to do with the fire-arm; but just then he was very curious to
learn what Dick had arranged.

He could hear him moving, and he seemed to lean forward until his
hands were perilously near the small opening at which the nose of the
bear was working just as the snout of a hog might be used to move an
obstacle.

The champing of teeth, along with the loud sniffing, continued.

"What are you doing, Dick?" asked Roger, finally, unable to stand the
suspense any longer.

"Oh!" came the cheery reply, "I have wasted a charge or two of powder,
placing it as near the opening as I can, and running a thread this
way. Now I have my flint and steel ready, and, as soon as he starts to
poking his nose in at the hole again, I'll strike fire, and explode the
powder in his face!"

Roger saw the object of this, and was considerably interested in the
outcome.

"I hope he gets the full benefit of the flash," he observed.

Dick saw his chance just t

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