Chapter IV: Part 4

"Ah!" replied the other, "`evil is wrought by want of thought,'" quoting the old distich. "But," he added, shaking off the momentary feeling of sadness produced by reflection, as if he were ashamed of it, "if we don't look `smart,' as our friend Seth says, we won't get a shot all day; and then, woe betide the larder!"

STORY ONE, CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

A CHANCE SHOT.

"Say, what precious fools we all air!" exclaimed Seth Allport all of a sudden, without any reference to anything they had been speaking about, when the hunting party stopped a moment to rest after a long and weary tramp over the seemingly-endless prairie, during which they had not caught sight of bird or beast worthy of a charge of powder and shot. "What precious fools we all air!" he repeated with the air of a Solon, and shaking his head solemnly with portentous gravity.

"Please speak for yourself," said Ernest Wilton jokingly. "Why this wholesale condemnation of our unfortunate selves? For my part, I should have thought that we were more to be pitied than blamed for our want of success."

"Oh, do you?" replied Seth gruffly--albeit he was as good-humoured as usual. "Then that's all you know about it. Don't you kinder think it raal smart neow for us to be a wearin' out shoe-leather when we've a heap o' mules eatin' their heads off and bustin' theirselves in that shanty o' theirn agin the house for want of work, I reckon?"

"Phew!" whistled Mr Rawlings through his teeth, his face assuming a mingled expression of surprise and amusement. "I declare I forgot all about the animals, I suppose because we have not lately had any occasion for their services. But they are in good condition, I've no doubt, as they have had literally nothing to do since they helped to carry our traps here in the fall, while they've fared better than us during the winter, for though forage has been scarce work has been scarcer, when our rations had sometimes to be limited. Oh, yes, they are certain to be filled out by this time, and been well looked after by our friend Jasper here," nodding kindly towards the negro steward as he spoke, that worthy having charge of the pack-mules amongst his other manifold duties as general factotum.

"Iss, Massa Rawlings," interposed Jasper, glad of the opportunity of joining in the conversation, "dey am prime. Dat obstropolus mule, Pres'dent Hayes, gib me one good kick in tummick dis marnin' when I'se feedin' him. Um jest as sassy as dat niggah Josh, iss, massa, and so is all de oder mules, sah."

"You'd better let your friend, that thaar mule, hove a shy with his heels at your woolly pate next time," said Seth in his customary grim way. "I don't think you'd kinder feel a kick thaar! But, I say, giniral," he added, turning to Mr Rawlings, "I don't see why we couldn't go a huntin' on hossback as well as afoot. It would be easier nor walkin', I guess, hey?"

"Certainly it would if we had any horses, which we haven't," said Mr Rawlings with a smile; "and mules--which are the only quadrupeds which we possess--are not exactly fitted for hunting purposes--at least I wouldn't like to try them. Besides, Seth, if I remember rightly, you do not shine quite so well on horseback as you do on a ship's quarter-deck, eh, old man? ha, ha, ha!"

And Mr Rawlings's smile expanded into a laugh at the reminiscence of one of the ex-mate's performances en cavalier soon after they came to Minturne Creek, causing Master Jasper to guffaw in sympathy with a heartiness that Seth did not at all relish, especially after Mr Rawlings's allusion to a matter which was rather a tender subject with him.

"You jest stow that, old ebony face," he said angrily to the negro, in a manner which proved that his equanimity was considerably disturbed. "You jest stow that, and hold your rampagious cacklin', or I'll soon make you rattle your ivories to another toon, I reckon, you ugly cuss!"

However, his passion had spent itself by the time he got out these words, for he said to Mr Rawlings a moment afterwards, allowing a smile to extend over his grim features to show that he was himself again, the usual easy-going Seth, and that his natural good temper had now quite got the better of its temporary attack of spleen,--"But I guess you're jist about right, Rawlings. I arn't quite fit fur to go saddlewise on them outlandish brutes; I ain't bred up to it like as I am hitched to the sea! When I spoke of riding, howsomedever, I warn't thinkin' o' myself, though, giniral, mind that; I thought as how you and our noo fren' here could kinder ride the deer down better if you wer mounted, that's all, I reckon."

"Very thoughtful of you," said Ernest Wilton drily; "but you see, old man, elk and wapiti--which are the only species of deer we are likely to meet with here, I think--can be better stalked than run down, as you suggest. However, the mules may come in handy for you, Mr Seth, to run down the buffalo, when they arrive from the southern plains here, as they'll probably do now in a week or two as the spring progresses. Look, Mr Rawlings," he added, "that buffalo grass, as it is called, there in front of you, is growing rapidly and will soon be breast high, don't you see?"

"That's right enough," said he. "But your remark reminds me of the old proverb about `live horse and you'll get oats.' I wish we could get something now to go along with until the buffalo do come northwards. I'm sure I am more sick than ever of that monotonous salt pork, after that taste of mountain mutton we had the other day."

"You bet," said Seth laconically, with much emphasis.

And then the party resumed their trudge over the billowy surface of the prairie, directing their quest towards a clump of trees they could perceive in the distance, at a place where the ground shelved downwards into a hollow, the certain sign of the near vicinity of some tributary of the Missouri coursing its way eastwards, amidst the recesses of whose wooded banks it was possible that traces of game might be found--that game which they were already well-nigh weary of seeking. To tell the truth, however, their want of success was not at all surprising, as the experience of the hunting party was extremely limited.

The Indian half-breed and Noah Webster, the two who were the most practically versed in the secrets of woodcraft, and thoroughly acquainted with all the various hunting dodges practised out on the prairie, had been left behind in camp, especially at Seth Allport's request, that amiable worthy wishing to distinguish himself by bringing home a deer "on his own hook," as he expressed it; although, as regards his shooting powers, he was far more dangerous to his friends than any object he might aim at, being likely rather to hit those behind or on either side of him than the animal at which he pointed his weapon in front; while, as for his skill in the stealthy approach of his prey in the fashion adopted by skilled deer-stalkers, it may be mentioned that he strode through the tall prairie-grass and brushwood as incontinently as if he were marching up and down the poop of the _Susan Jane_ in a gale of wind, alarming every winged and four-footed creature for miles round!

Touching the others, Mr Rawlings and Ernest Wilton were both good shots, although not very familiar with "the noble arte of venerie," as hunting the deer was styled in the days of Shakespeare, who is reported, by the way, to have been an adept in the pursuit: while, of course, Sailor Bill and Jasper were "out of the hunt" in the literal sense of the phrase.

"I tell you what, boys," said Mr Rawlings when they had reached the timber they had made for, "we must separate, and each of us try his luck on his own account. I'm sure we're never likely to come across anything as long as we are all in a body together like this."

The remark was made just at the right time, for they were in the likeliest spot to harbour deer they had yet tracked over; and if there was any occasion for their exercising caution and skill it was now.

The timber--mostly pine-trees and cottonwood, with low brush growing about their trunks, forming a copse--was on both sides of a small river, which seemed easily fordable, with bright green grass extending from the adjacent prairie down to the water's edge.

"Right you air, boss," said Seth, wading into the streamlet without any more ado as he spoke; "my motter's allers to go forrud, so I reckon I'll take tother side of this air stream ahead, an' you ken settle yerselves on this."

"A very good arrangement," said Mr Rawlings, not at all displeased at Seth's putting the river between them.

He and Ernest Wilton might possibly have a chance now of getting near a deer for a shot, which they could not have hoped to do as long as Seth remained along with them.

"But pray take care of the boy," he continued, as he saw Sailor Bill follow in Seth's footsteps and wade into the stream, which came up beyond his knees; "the river may be deeper than you think."

"Never fear," sang out the ex-mate lustily in response. "Thaar ain't water enough to float a cockboat; and I'm lookin' out keerful and feelin' my way afore I plant a fut, you bet."

"All right," answered Mr Rawlings.

And his feelings were soon afterwards relieved by seeing Seth and his protege reach the other side in safety.

A moment later, and they had ascended the opposite river-bank and were lest to sight, their movements being hidden from view by the clustering branches of the young pine-trees and spreading foliage of the brushwood and rank river grass, although their whereabouts was plainly betrayed for some time later by the tramp of Seth's heavy footstep and the crunching noise he made as he trod on the rotten twigs and dead wood that came across his path, the sound growing fainter and fainter in the distance, and finally dying away.

"Now," said Mr Rawlings to Ernest Wilton, who, with Jasper and the dog Wolf, still remained by his side, "we are rid of poor Seth and his blundering sportsmanship, and have the coast clear for a shot; which way would you like to go best--up or down this bank of the river?"

"Down," answered the young engineer promptly. "Seth, `I reckon'--as he would say himself--will be certain to startle any game on that side long before he gets near it; and as the deer will probably take to the water and cross here on their back track to the hills, I may possibly get a shot at one as they pass."

"Very good," said Mr Rawlings; "please yourself. You go that way, and I'll go this, and the sooner we separate and each follow his own course, the better chance of sport we'll have. Only, mind, Wilton, don't you shoot poor Seth and Sailor Bill at one discharge of your rifle, the same as you did those three mountain-sheep the other day, eh?"

And Mr Rawlings chuckled as he strolled off up stream with the negro.

"And don't you bring down Jasper under the idea he's a blackbird," retorted Ernest Wilton before Mr Rawlings had got out of earshot, as he started down the river-bank with Wolf following closely at his heels, in the manner befitting well-trained dogs of high degree like himself.

Then followed a long silence, only broken, as far as each hunter was concerned, by the rustling of leaves and trampling of twigs as he pursued his way through the thick undergrowth, pausing every moment to examine the ground beneath his feet and the thickets he encountered, in search of deer tracks to and from the water, and giving an occasional glimpse at the prairie beyond when the trees opened a bit and their branches lifted enough to afford a view of the surrounding country, which only happened now and then, as vegetation was vigorous along both banks of the river.

Mr Rawlings, it may be mentioned before going any further, was decidedly unlucky in his quest, not catching sight of a single moving creature, although the fact must be taken into consideration that the direction he took was somewhat over the same ground that the whole party had already traversed, and that whatever game might have been in the vicinity, must have been pretty well nearly scared away before he tried his sportsman's cunning alone; Ernest Wilton, however, was more successful.

Shortly after parting from Mr Rawlings and Jasper, as he was creeping stealthily through the tall prairie-grass that bordered the grove of fine trees along the bank of the river, with Wolf following closely behind him, he noticed suddenly a movement in the undergrowth amidst the timber, just like the branch of a tree being moved slowly up and down.

Watching the spot carefully, he subsequently thought he could distinguish two little round objects that glared like the eyes of some animal; so aiming steadily between these latter, after a brief pause he fired.

His suspicions proved correct; for, almost at the same instant that the report of his rifle rang out in the clear air, a magnificent wapiti stag, with wide branching antlers, leaped from the covert, and bounded across his line of sight towards the hills on the right; although from the halting motion of the animal he could see that his shot had taken effect.

"At him, Wolf!" cried he to the dog. But Wolf did not require any command or encouragement from his master: he knew well enough what to do.

Quick as lightning, as soon as the wounded stag had jumped out from amidst the brushwood the dog leaped after him, and, in a few strides, was at his quarters. The chase was not of very long duration, for Ernest's bullet had touched some vital spot; and, within a hundred yards of where he had been struck, the wapiti dropped on his knees, made a faint attempt to stagger again to his feet, and an equally unsuccessful effort to gore Wolf, who wisely kept without his reach; and then, with a convulsive tremor running over all his vast frame, fell over on his side, dead!

"Hurrah!" shouted Ernest, so loudly that Mr Rawlings, who was not very far off, heard his shout as well as Wolf's deep baying, and was soon on the spot, where mutual congratulations were exchanged at the noble game the young engineer had brought down so unexpectedly.

"Golly, massa!" exclaimed Jasper, his face expanding into one of his customary huge grins that seemed to be "all ivory and eye-balls," as Seth used to say--"why, um will serb de camp in meat um whole week!"

"You're not far wrong," said Mr Rawlings, as he surveyed the heavy carcase of the wapiti, which was as big as an ordinary-sized pony, with a splendid pair of branching antlers; "and you'll have to go back and fetch the small waggon and a team of mules, Jasper, to take it home. It's a very fine animal, Wilton," he continued, turning to the latter, "and I almost envy you your shot!"

The young engineer made some chaffing answer, ascribing the credit of taking the game to Wolf, who stood panting guard over his prostrate prey, when the attention of both Mr Rawlings and himself was suddenly distracted from all thoughts of hunting, and everything pertaining to it, by the faint echo of a rifle-shot in the distance, again followed rapidly by another; and then, immediately afterwards, the sound of Seth Allport's voice appealing to them for aid, in ringing accents that rose above the report of the last shot.

"Help! Ahoy, there! help!"

STORY ONE, CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

SAILOR BILL CAPTURED.

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Mr Rawlings, as he and Ernest Wilton looked at one another for a second in blank consternation--"I hope nothing serious has happened!" And he was just about to dash into the river and wade across to the other side, in the direction from whence Seth's shout for succour came, when the young engineer stopped him.

"You'd better wait a minute," said Ernest. "The prairie is a wide place, and sounds seem to come from one point when in reality they emanate from an entirely different spot; so, in hurrying thus to Seth's assistance, you may take the longest way to reach him. Let us return to the place where he and the boy crossed the stream; and, as soon as we reach the other bank opposite and find their track I'll put Wolf on the scent, and we'll come up with them much more quickly than you could do by crossing here and spending some time perhaps in hunting about in the brushwood over there before you could find any trace of his footsteps."

"You're right," said Mr Rawlings. "Two heads are better than one. But, pray lose no time about it," he added, as Seth's call was again heard, sounding more loudly than before--

"Help! ahoy, there! Help!"

The path back to where the entire party had halted on the bank of the river before separating, according to Mr Rawlings' suggestion, was not difficult to trace. Then, fording the stream at the point where Seth and Sailor Bill had waded across, they searched about for their tracks up and down a short distance until they were likewise found, when their task became comparatively easy, as the dog's aid was now of use.

"Hi, Wolf!" said Ernest Wilton, drawing his hand over the footmarks of Seth's heavy boots, where they entered the dense mass of brushwood below the pine-trees. "Good dog! Fetch 'em out! Hi!"

Wolf was all attention in an instant.

Looking up into his master's face with a low whine of inquiry as if to learn what he exactly meant him to do, and then putting down his nose with a significant sniff, as Ernest Wilton again drew his hand across Seth's track, he gave a loud yelp expressive of his intelligent comprehension of the duty that lay before him; bounding on in advance through the thick shrubbery, and going at such a pace that Mr Rawlings and Jasper had hard work to do to keep up with Ernest, who followed close behind the dog at a run almost.

"Steady, boy, steady!" said Ernest Wilton in a low tone, every now and then, as Wolf would turn back his head to see whether his master was near him or no, and then the sagacious animal would give an eager bark in answer, as if to say--

"I'm going on all right, old man. Don't be alarmed, I'm making no mistake about the scent."

Presently the trail diverged from underneath the timber and brushwood by the river-bank, and struck off at an angle into the open prairie, as if Seth had got tired of fighting his way amongst the overhanging branches and projecting trunks of the pine-trees.

From this point the footprints gradually led up to a little plateau above the valley through which the streamlet ran; and, arrived at the top of this, Wolf gave vent to a louder and more triumphant bark than previously, and halted in his tracks, as if waiting for Ernest to join him before proceeding any further.

The young engineer was by the dog's side in a moment, and one rapid glance round enabled him to see that the prairie extended beyond the plateau in a vast plain as far as the eye could reach, being bounded on the extreme verge of the horizon by a low range of hills or wooded heights, most probably marking, he thought, the southward course of the great Missouri river, although, as he reflected the moment after, they were much too far to the westward for that.

His attention, however, was not much given to the scenery and the picture which the spreading vast plain presented. A figure in the foreground, some little distance from the higher level on which he was standing, was gesticulating frantically towards him, and Seth's voice assured him of his identity, if he had any lingering doubt on the subject, by shouting out as soon as he had come into sight across the sky line--

"Hyar, ahoy, man! Hurry up thaar an' help a feller, can't you?"

"Here he is!" shouted out Ernest back to Mr Rawlings and Jasper, who were a few yards behind him, and, without waiting for them to come up, he hastened down the slightly shelving ground towards where the ex-mate seemed to be in some predicament, as he did not stand up, but was half-sitting, half-lying on the ground, resting his head on one arm as he waved the other to the young engineer.

"Hullo! what's the matter?" asked Ernest, calling out before he reached him.

"Injuns--been wounded," said Seth, in his usual curt, laconic way.

"Gracious me!" exclaimed Ernest, quite taken aback by the announcement. "Indians! And where is Sailor Bill?"

"The durned cusses have carried him off!" said Seth with a sob. "I'd a follered and got him back," added the ex-mate to Mr Rawlings, who now came up, with Jasper at his heels--the negro almost turning white with terror at the very name of the Indians being mentioned, and shaking in his shoes,--"I'd a follered an' got him back, yes sir! But them durned cusses have sent an arrowhead through my karkuss, and well-nigh broken my fut as well!"

STORY ONE, CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

ON THE TRAIL.

"Where are you wounded?" asked Mr Rawlings, bending over Seth, who seemed to suffer considerable pain, although he endeavoured stoically to suppress all expression of it.

"In my side, haar," replied the other, pointing to where the feathered end of an arrow could be seen protruding from his shirt; "and if yer cut off the tail of the cussed thing, I reckon you ken pull it slick through, as the head's comed out ahint me. But it's only a flesh wound, and ain't up to much, for it didn't touch my ribs."

"Well," said Mr Rawlings, "you're a bit of a doctor, Seth, and ought to know if anybody does."

"Yes, it's only a scratch, I'm sartain, or I would ha' felt it more. My fut's the wussest of the two. But, lor' sakes!" added Seth, trying to get on his legs, and quivering with excitement, although the attempt was futile, and he had to sink back again into his half-sitting, half-kneeling posture with a groan--"don't you stop here a consulting about me, Rawlings, when that poor boy's life's in peril. You and Wilton had best skate off at once and foller up them redskins as has Sailor Bill. I ken bide waal enuf till you gits back again, old man, along with Jasper, who can do all I wants."

"We won't neglect the boy," said Mr Rawlings, struck with Seth's unselfishness in ignoring his own wounded condition under the consciousness of his protege's danger, "but we must think of you all the same first." And kneeling down by the injured man's side, he proceeded, with Ernest Wilton's assistance, to cut away Seth's shirt, and then the end of the arrow, holding it firmly the while so that it should not wriggle about, and hurt him more than they could help, after which the barbed head was drawn out of the wound--which was just between the third and fourth ribs, and not very serious, as the ex-mate had thought-- stanching the blood, and binding up the place with a silk handkerchief, which the young engineer had taken from round his neck for the purpose.

Mr Rawlings was immensely relieved to find that Seth was not so dangerously hit as he had at first supposed. When he saw the arrow sticking out of his side, he thought it was all up with his poor comrade; so now that the case appeared more hopeful, he was better able to consider what course should be adopted for Sailor Bill's rescue.

After a moment's deliberation, during which Seth gazed at him with a look of piteous entreaty on his face, but did not interrupt him with a word, guessing what was passing through his mind, Mr Rawlings' line of action was decided on.

"Here, Jasper," said he to the negro steward.

"Iss, massa."

"You must run back to the camp as hard as you can, and tell Noah Webster to pick out five or six of the men who can use their rifles well, and come back here with them and Moose--he wouldn't forget to bring him--to pursue the Indians. You must also bring a team of mules with the small waggon with you, the same as I told you about just now, although I did not then think to what a sad use we should put it, to take home Mr Seth in; and look sharp now--why, what's the matter?"

Jasper had started up to go at Mr Rawlings' first words; but when that gentleman spoke about the Indians while giving his directions, his alacrity and courage seemed to disappear together in company, as, instead of rushing off, as Mr Rawlings supposed, almost before he could finish speaking, there he stood, twirling his battered straw-hat about in his fingers, and looking the picture of cowardly irresolution.

"What, massa?" he tremblingly said, in answer to Mr Rawlings' interrogation, his teeth chattering with fear, and his countenance wearing a most hang-dog expression. "Me go back 'lone cross de prairee, all dat way to camp? Suppose the Injuns scalp pore niggah same as massa Seth! Golly, Massa Rawlins, um can't do it. I'se afeared!"

"You durned skunk!" exclaimed Seth, his indignation heightened probably by the pain of his wounds. "You jest make tracks at once, as Mister Rawlings says, or else I'll--" and he shook his fist expressively to complete the sentence.

"Perhaps I had better go," said Ernest Wilton at this juncture. "Jasper seems to be so frightened that he might lose his way; and, at all events, he would probably have forgotten half your instructions when he got to the creek, and give only a garbled account of what has happened. I think I would make the best messenger, unless you would prefer me to remain with you in case the Indians should return in force before we get help."

"Go by all means," answered Mr Rawlings. "I needn't tell you to hurry, my boy, you know the necessity of that, on every account! Jasper shall stop here and help defend us in case the savages assail us before you get back;" and Mr Rawlings could not help smiling as he spoke, in spite of their perilous position, at the comical idea of the cowardly Jasper acting as a protector.

"Bress us and sabe us, Massa Rawlings!" ejaculated the negro in mortal terror, about which there was no pretence or affectation. "Don't say dat, don't now! mebbe it come out for true! I'se rader go 'th Mass' Willerton, an' bring back the waggin for Mass' Seth, iss, sah."

"No you won't," said Mr Rawlings. "You hesitated to go when I told you, and now you shall stop here whether you like it or not!" emphasising his words by laying his hand on the darkey's shoulder, in such an impressive manner that he could not but submit to the command. But long before the question of Jasper's staying behind or going off with the young engineer was settled, Ernest had started off on the back track towards Minturne Creek at a brisk run, and was shortly out of sight behind the top of the plateau they had just descended from.

Prior to leaving, however, Ernest considerately ordered Wolf to remain in his place, as he would be of much service in the event of an Indian attack, telling the sagacious animal to lie at Seth's feet, with a "Hi, watch there; old man!" an order which the dog at once obeyed, while his master was off and away in an instant.

"Well, Seth," said Mr Rawlings, when the young engineer had disappeared from their gaze, "you haven't yet told me how this catastrophe occurred? But let me see your foot now, and I can examine it, and see what I can do to that while you are telling me all about it." And Mr Rawlings proceeded to cut away a portion of Seth's boot with his clasp knife--the same as he had had to do to his shirt before extracting the arrow, as it caused the poor fellow too much pain to pull it off--while the other went on with his yarn.

"Thaar ain't much to tell," began Seth. "I an' Sailor Bill beat up the bush alongside that ther stream, arter partin' with you, and then, when we seed nothin' thaar, made tracks for this yere paraira, as I diskivered, when I got to the top o' that risin' ground yonder, some elk a feedin' down hyar. There was a herd of seven of 'em or more, an' soon as I gets near enuf I lets drive at 'em; and just then, hullabaloo! I heart a screech like somethin' awful, an' a Injun starts up, just like a deer a walkin' on his hind legs."

"That's an artful dodge they have of putting on the skin of some animal, and approaching unsuspiciously within shooting range without alarming their game."

"Waal, this hyar Injun," continued Seth, without noticing Mr Rawlings' explanatory interruption, "rushed on to me like a mad bull in fly time, and seein' as how he meant bizness; I drawed the trigger again, but missed him, and he flung his tommyhawk, which cotched my fut, and brought me to the ground as slick as greased lightnin', you bet!"

"And gave you a bad wound, too," said Mr Rawlings, who by this time had managed to take off Seth's boot and disclose the extent of the injury, a pretty deep cut right across the instep, which would probably lame the ex-mate for life, as far as he could judge.

"Waal, it do hurt some," said Seth, when Mr Rawlings proceeded to bandage up the foot in the same way as he had done the poor fellow's side previously. "But I dersay I'll git over it soon, gineral. Ef I seed Sailor Bill agin I wouldn't care a cent about it, I guess!"

"How was it that they carried him off, and you escaped alive? I can't think how they let you off when you were once down and at their mercy?"

"Oh, I made a pretty good fit of it, I reckon, with the butt-end of my rifle, and giv' both them red devils somethin' to remember Seth Allport by!--For there was two on 'em at me, as soon as Sailor Bill rushed in atween me an' the fust Injun."

"Did the boy really help you?" said Mr Rawlings in some surprise; for, as has been previously related, Sailor Bill had never exhibited any trace of emotional feeling from the time of his being picked up at sea, save on that memorable occasion immediately afterwards, when, it may be remembered, he rushed out of the cabin when the ship was taken aback.

"He did so," answered Seth, "an' the curiosest part of it wer he looked jest the same frightened like as when he saved me aboard the _Susan Jane_, with his har all on end--jes so."

"It's very extraordinary," said Mr Rawlings; "and then they carried him off?"

"Waal, I was making a good fit of it as I told you, an' when Sailor Bill rushes to help me a second Injun started up and collars him; and then I heard that air blessed dawg bark, and I knowed what it wer, an' so did the Injuns too; for as I shouted out to let yer know whar we wer, they made tracks with pore Bill, lugging him off atween them over thaar," said Seth, pointing eastwards, where, however, nothing could now be seen. "And that's all you know about it?" said Mr Rawlings.

"Jes so," replied Seth.

At the same moment the negro Jasper, who had been gazing fixedly in the direction in which Ernest Wilton had gone for aid, uttered an exclamation of frenzied delight, and began to caper about.

"Golly, Massa Rawlings," cried he, "dere dey is! dere dey is!"

The negro was right. As he spoke Mr Rawlings and Seth could see a body of men advancing over the crest of the plateau, accompanied by a waggon drawn by a pair of mules. The young engineer had accomplished his mission well. Instead of publishing his news aloud, and thereby creating a commotion amongst the miners who would have all wished to rush off _en masse_ to the assistance of Mr Rawlings and Seth Allport, both much liked by all, and the rescue of Sailor Bill, whom the men had got also attached to in the same way as the crew of the _Susan Jane_, Ernest drew Noah Webster on one side, and briefly told him what had occurred and what Mr Rawlings had ordered to be done.

Noah was equally prompt and discreet.

Mustering one of the gangs, who had completed their shift in sinking the new shaft and had had a rest, he told them to get their rifles quietly and accompany him to the prairie, when he mentioned casually, in a way they appeared to understand, the boss and manager had come across some "red game" and wanted their help.

At the same time the backwoodsman ordered Josh, who was nothing loth to have the chance of abandoning his caboose duties for a while, to have a couple of mules hitched to the waggon; while he beckoned Moose, the half-breed, who apparently suspected something was in the wind, to come towards him, when the two conferred, while the miners and Josh were getting ready.

The whole thing, indeed, was so well managed, that within ten minutes of Ernest Wilton's arrival in camp, the rescuing party had started for the spot where Mr Rawlings and Seth and the terror-stricken Jasper were awaiting their approach: a band of strong, well-armed, resolute men, consisting, besides the young engineer himself and Noah Webster, of Moose the half-breed, Black Harry--one of the former crew of the _Susan Jane_, a muscular giant who would have been a match for three Indians in himself--and five of the miners, old "Californian stagers," used to frontier life and rough and tumble fighting--in addition to Josh, of course, who drove the mule waggon.

As soon as the scene of the fray was reached, Seth was lifted carefully into the waggon and sent back to Minturne Creek, under the care of Jasper--who took the place of Josh as teamster, that darkey displaying considerably more pluck than the former, and evincing as much eagerness to encounter the Indians as Jasper did to avoid them--while the rescuing party followed on the trail of Sailor Bill's abductors.

STORY ONE, CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

RISING CLOUD.

"Silenza!" said the half-breed warningly, hearing Black Harry talking rather loudly and threatening what he would do in case a hair of the poor boy was injured,--"Silenza! Senors must go soft, or Sioux hear mens speak!"

This happened just as they started, and from that moment not a word was further spoken amongst the party, the men preserving a solemn silence and marching one after the other in single file, Moose and Noah Webster leading the way, and tracking the course of the Indians like sleuth-hounds, seeing traces of the passage of those of whom they were in pursuit in places where, as in the rocky bottom of a dry ravine they presently came across, no footprints were perceptible like as they were when the trail led through the prairie-grass, in a manner most unaccountable both to Mr Rawlings and the young engineer.

On and on, mile after mile, went the gallant little band, at one time treading downward towards some bottom or valley, at another their route lying upwards along some ascending plateau, until the afternoon grew dusky and night approached, when they had travelled over a considerable distance of ground from their starting-point.

The prairie still stretched before them, the fringe of trees on the horizon which Ernest Wilton had perceived some hours before still far off, but much nearer than they were then, although, as he saw now, they certainly could not indicate the banks of the Missouri, as he had then thought; while between this distant bank of timber, that stood out here under the shades of evening more strongly against the sky line, were sundry little timbered islands as it were amidst the vast ocean of spreading plain on which they were.

As it got darker, the half-breed, who was unacquainted with Wolf's sagacity, that equalled his own in following a trail, made them understand that they must give up the pursuit until the morning light, or moon, should it not be obscured, enabled the trail to be deciphered; but Wolf's master showing him what to do, and a sort of leash being attached to the dog so that he should not go too fast on the scent and be lost sight of in the gathering gloom, the expedition started on again, after a brief halt, as untiringly as ever.

"Ugh!" ejaculated Moose, when they had continued their quest through the darkness with Wolf's aid for about an hour, more or less--"Hist! Light yonder! Stay here, I go see!" and he disappeared from amongst them, while the others halted on the spot, from whence they could faintly perceive the glimmer of firelight shining amidst trees in front of them: so they were evidently near one of those little wooded islands they had observed in the distance.

After an absence which seemed unconscionably long to those who remained behind, the half-breed returned, and from what he said Mr Rawlings divided the band into two portions, one of which he ordered to follow Moose, whose object was to take the Indians in the rear, while the main body attacked them in front, thus causing them to surrender probably at the display of their overwhelming numbers, the two parties acting together by a concerted signal, without any recourse to their weapons, which would most likely endanger the life of poor Sailor Bill whom they had come to save.

All proceeded satisfactorily up to a certain point.

The half of the band that accompanied Moose stole forward, skirting round the trees so as to get the Indians in a line between themselves and Mr Rawlings' party; and presently the solitary note of the melancholy whip-poor-will was heard from amidst the trees, to warn the others that Moose and his companions were in position, and they were to close in nearer to the Indian camp before the half-breed should give the second intimation that it was time for the final rush.

Black Harry's indiscretion, however, at this juncture spoilt Moose's plan of surprising the Indians and effecting their object without bloodshed. As they approached nearer the light that glimmered from amid the trees, they could see that three Indians were seated round it, while close adjoining them was poor Sailor Bill lashed tightly to a tree, like a poor lamb that was to be slaughtered in some butcher's shop.

The sight was too much for the unthinking but gallant seaman, so, despite Mr Rawlings' strict injunctions to the contrary, he levelled his rifle and fired point-blank into the group of Indians huddled over the fire.

The savages started up with a yell of alarm; and, seizing their arms hurriedly, one of them darted towards the motionless figure of Sailor Bill with an uplifted hatchet in his hand.

At that moment Mr Rawlings, seeing the imminent jeopardy of the boy, fired, and the Indian's arm fell as if broken by the bullet, the hatchet dropping from his hand; in another second, however, the savage picked up the weapon again and would have brained Sailor Bill, being in the act of hurling it at him with a malignant aim, when Wolf, who had stolen forward at the first outburst, dashed at the Indian's throat with a low growl of vengeance, and brought him to the ground.

"Don't kill them!" shouted Mr Rawlings, in a voice that made itself heard above the melee; and after a brief struggle, the two remaining Indians were secured and firmly bound, although it took all Black Harry's strength to overcome the one he grappled, who turned out to be the chief of the party, while the one Wolf had brought down suffered terribly from the grip of the dog on his throat.

After all had cooled down from the contest, which had lasted some little time, Mr Rawlings directed Moose to ask the Indian chief--who, the half-breed said, was a leading warrior of the Sioux tribe, rejoicing in the sounding title of "Rising Cloud,"--why he had attacked an innocent settler and miner like Seth Allport, and stolen away the boy that was with him?

The Indian, however, did not seem to require the services of an interpreter, for he answered Mr Rawlings as if he thoroughly comprehended the gist of the question Moose was deputed to ask him.

"Paleface lie!" he said angrily, in broken English, which he mastered much better indeed than the half-breed did in his half-Spanish patter. "Rising Cloud was hunting on the lands of his tribe when tall paleface hunter shoot him as if he were a beast of the forest. The red man isn't a dog to be trodden on, so he gave the paleface a lesson, to remind him Rising Cloud could have killed him if he had willed it."

"But why steal the boy?" asked Mr Rawlings, thinking that perhaps the Indian had some right on his side in assailing Seth after he had fired at him first.

"Boy jump at Rising Cloud like grizzly bear. Boy grow up fine warrior. Rising Cloud take him to his wigwam to make him big Sioux chief by-and-by and fight the paleface dogs."

"That's a very pleasant way of appropriation," said Ernest Wilton, under his voice, to Mr Rawlings. "But what's that he says, about fighting the palefaces?"

"I thought there was peace between the red man and the children of the Great Father at Washington?" said Mr Rawlings, alluding to the current legend in frontier life that all the settlers out west are the progeny of the President of the United States for the time being.

"No peace long," said the Sioux chief defiantly, a savage smile lighting up his expressive features. "Hatchet dug up already. War soon--in 'nother moon."

"Well, that's a pleasant prospect to look forward to!" said Ernest, in a half-serious, half-comic way, as he usually regarded most things. "But what's to be done with these fellows now? Sailor Bill is none the worse for his temporary captivity, and I suppose Seth will be all right in a few days, after his wounds get better. I suppose we shall have to let them go?"

"Yes," said Mr Rawlings; "but I must consult Noah Webster first."

After consultation with that worthy, it was determined that the whole party should take advantage of the Indians' bivouac and remain there till the morning, when they would have had a good rest; but the Indians must be kept bound, and one taken with them on the back track next day until they had accomplished half their return journey home, when he would be released, and sent back free to unloose his comrades. This, Noah Webster said, was the only course they could adopt in order to avoid any treachery with the redskins, Noah saying that he would not trust them farther than he could see them, and laughing at Mr Rawlings' idea of releasing them at once on parole.

"Why, if yer did so," said he, "none of us would ever git back to Minturne Creek to tell the tale!"

Accordingly, Noah's plan was adopted. The little band that had accomplished Sailor Bill's rescue so satisfactorily, rested after their labours till the morning, when, leaving two of the Indians bound to trees in a similar way as they had discovered poor Seth's protege, they started back for the camp, taking with them the chief, Rising Cloud, whom they did not release until they reached the spot where the original row had occurred, where the chief had his arms unpinioned and was told he might go and free his companions.

The Indian did not take a very affectionate farewell of his escort. As Mr Rawlings and Ernest untied his hands and told him he might go, he pointed first towards the sky, then towards the east from whence they had just come, and then in the direction where Minturne Creek lay.

"Yes, white man master now! Rising Cloud go home to his tribe; but by-and-by he come back again with a thousand warriors at his back, and wipe out the white men, robbers of the red man's land. Yes, by the Manitou of the palefaces Rising Cloud swears it!"

And the Indian spat on the ground with a savage gesture as he spoke.

STORY ONE, CHAPTER NINETEEN.

GOLD AT LAST--EUREKA!

When Jasper and the mule waggon appeared at Minturne Creek, some time after the departure of Noah Webster and the rescue party, the miners who had been left at work under the charge of Tom Cannon, as Noah's deputy, greeted the arrival with a cheer, as they had been kept in ignorance of what had really happened, and imagined that the waggon had been sent for, as well as a few additional good shots from their party, in order to bring in an unexpected supply of game which the hunters had come across.

Jasper's conveyance certainly did carry something in the game line, the negro having mentioned to Seth about the wapiti deer that Ernest Wilton had shot, and being directed by him to stop and cart it home with them, as it lay in their road to the camp; but the main cargo of the waggon, their wounded manager, whom Jasper hailed them to come and help him lift out, was a double surprise to the men, and a grief as well, as may be readily understood when it is considered how much Seth was liked by the hands under him.

They vowed vengeance against the Indians; and it required all the exercise of Seth's authority to prevent another party from sallying off to aid the first in the rescue of Sailor Bill. But, after a time, the excitement calmed down, and they waited with as much patience as they possessed the return of the others; although nothing that Seth could say would persuade them to turn in all that weary night, during which time they were in a state of suspense as to the fate of their comrades; and they were equally disinclined to resume work in the mine.

They seemed capable of doing nothing, until they should learn how the matter was settled, one way or other; and--heedless even of the welcome addition of fresh meat to their scanty fare, in the fine wapiti that they possessed through the precision of the young engineer's rifle, which at another time would have roused equally their enthusiasm and their appetites--remained grouped round impromptu log-fires that they had lit to hail the absentees when they came back, looking to their arms and ammunition so as to be ready for anything that might happen, and considering amongst themselves as to what was best to be done in the event of the non-arrival of the rescue party within a reasonable limit; Seth fretting and worrying himself the while as much as any, although he tried to preserve a quiet demeanour in order to reassure the rest, and exclaiming against the "paltry wounds," as he called them--which gave him much pain in spite of Jasper continually soaking the bandages around them with cold water in pursuance of his directions--that prevented him from taking an active part in his protege's recovery, instead of waiting idly there while others went bravely to the fore, as he should have done.

Be the night however weary, and watching long, the morning comes at last:--thus it was now with the miners of Minturne Creek.

Daylight is a wonderful panacea for those gloomy thoughts and anxieties which are nourished and magnified during the dark hours of the night; so, when the sun arose next morning, after the weary watch of Seth and the others, in the expectation that they might receive every moment the news of some disaster to their comrades who had been gone so long, instead of their fears being increased by the knowledge that the rescue party had not yet returned, they felt inclined to take a much more sanguine view of the situation--a view that Seth not only endorsed but was the prime agent in promulgating, possibly through the pain of his wounds having considerably lessened and caused him to look on things in a more hopeful way.

"Tha'are all right b'ys, I reckon," said he. "No noos is good noos; fur ef anythin' had kinder happen'd to 'em, we should have heert afore."

"So thinks I," said Tom Cannon; "and let's set to work agin, mates, at the shaft, to let the boss see, when he comes back, that we ha'n't been idle in his absence; p'raps, too, we'll have something to show him in the gold line, as I don't think as how we're far off the lode now."

"That's yer sort," echoed Seth, from amidst the pile of buffalo rugs alongside one of the fires in the open space before the hut, where he would persist in staying, to be the first to receive the rescue party on their return, and where he said he could nurse his injuries far better than going to bed in the anxious frame of mind he was in. "That's yer sort, b'ys! Tackle to the job with a will, my hearties; it'll be a durned sight better nor restin' on your oars and doin' nothin', as I'm forced to do, like the battered old hulk I am!"

These cheery words from Tom Cannon and Seth had the desired effect of restoring a little more activity to the scene around the creek; and the small band of the remaining miners, dividing their attenuated forces into two gangs and taking short shifts turn about at intervals, worked with such praiseworthy diligence, that when Mr Rawlings and the other adventurers arrived in safety near mid-day, escorting the recovered Sailor Bill scatheless in triumph back to the camp, they had got through a surprising amount of work. The tubbing had been put into position two days before, and had been found to act admirably; the water had been pumped out, and the men at work were driving to the left, as Ernest Wilton thought that they were at present only on the wall of the lode, which was a very strong one, and that it would be found much richer upon the other wall.

As soon as mutual congratulations had been interchanged amongst the leaders, and the joy of the whole party at being once more reunited had somewhat subsided, Tom Cannon, and one of the leading miners who had been last down the new shaft, approached the spot where Mr Rawlings, Ernest Wilton, and Noah Webster were grouped, chatting together, with Seth--behind whom Sailor Bill had taken up his usual place, on his return to camp, with his customary apathetic air, the boy not exhibiting the slightest increase of animation, despite all the excitement and unwonted scenes through which he had recently passed, or any return to that sudden change of demeanour, almost amounting to a fit of frenzy, which he had again displayed for an instant, as Seth asserted, when he interposed to save his life from the onslaught of the savage, on the prairie, as he had done when he came forward in a similar way to rescue him on board the _Susan Jane_ on the ship's being taken aback the previous year.

"I guess thaar's sunthin' up now," said Noah Webster, as the two men came towards him and the others, noticing a slight assumption of mystery on the part of Tom Cannon and his companion, a man who was familiarly styled "Left Bower" amongst the miners, from the fact not only of his surname being Bower, but on account of the singular dexterity he exhibited in the great American card game of euchre.

"Guess so," said Seth, sotto voce. "They've been downright busy since you've been gone, workin' like hosses, that they have! Waal, b'ys," he added aloud for the benefit of the coming deputation, "what's the rumpus neow? Panned out anythin' tall?"

"See!" said Tom Cannon, opening his closed fist and displaying a little tiny heap of gold dust lying in the palm of his hand. "All that came out o' one lump o' quartz taken out of the gravel in the heading we've begun. We can see it everywhere in the rock, and it was getting richer every inch we got in."