CHAPTER THREE.
OUT WEST.
Dan Portway sat in the shade cast by a large hemlock, an extinct pipebetween his lips, and his chin resting upon his hands, gazing down uponhis companion, whose head and breast alone were in the shade, for thesun seemed to have veered farther round since they ate their mealtogether, and then lay down to rest until the heat had grown less. Theywere upon the steep slope of one of the mountains which shot up ruggedand bare on all sides, and sank down in dangerous gulches, like rockycrevices in the earth, their precipitous sides sometimes going downsheer to where water gushed, and roared, and sprang from rock to rock,hundreds of feet below. Wherever a sheltered spot offered itself forfoothold, the pines and hemlocks had risen, like dark green cones,towards the deep blue skies, their heads glistening in the sunshine, andexhaling a perfume that floated upon the mountain breezes far and wide.It was one of Nature's solitudes in the Far West, and the two men, astheir rifles and accoutrements showed, had climbed up there in search ofthe game which found a home in these wilds.
They had had a long tramp and climb that day, but neither bear normountain sheep had fallen before their bullets, and they foundthemselves at last miles away from the pine grove where they had set uptheir tent, with the sombre boughs above and the pine-needles forming athick bed below. The surroundings were glorious. It was the idealhaunt of a mountain hunter, and here a month before, on a farewellexcursion, before obeying the recall he had received, George Harringtonhad revisited the neighbourhood which he had discovered far up in themountains years before, when prospecting for gold.
The days had glided by, and evening after evening he had come to thedetermination that after the next day he would begin to move in thedirection of civilisation, and hunt and shoot as he went; but, in spiteof the fact that they had come twice over upon Indian signs there was somuch fascination in the place that he always determined upon leaving inanother day or two.
When George Harrington started upon his trip it was in company with anexperienced guide, but the man had fallen ill and gone back to one ofthe towns, and just as Harrington was in despair, he had come suddenlyupon a man whom he had twice before encountered and with whom he hadhunted. Hearing from George the quandary in which he was placed, DanPortway, a man of good birth and education, who had emigrated to theWest a couple of years before and found the hunting life in themountains more to his taste than straightforward labour, at oncevolunteered to accompany him. The offer was eagerly accepted, for itseemed suicidal to go alone, and as Dan had proved himself to becompanionable, a clever shot, and well versed in hunting craft, the timehad glided pleasantly away without their once encountering a soul.
Two men with a similarity of tastes cannot chum together in a littletent here and there in the mountains without becoming confidential,hence it was that before long George Harrington pretty well knew hiscompanion's impecunious history--that is, as much as he chose to tell,and on the other hand, not only had Portway, apparently without pumping,learned Harrington's position, but had received an invitation toaccompany him to England.
"Have another day," Portway would say laughingly; "at present you arefree. Who can say when you will enjoy such another succession of climbsas you have out here."
"True," Harrington said thoughtfully.
"When you get back, of course, it will be pleasant to inherit the money;but what about the wife?"
"Well," said Harrington sternly, "what about her?"
"I mean," said Portway hastily, "how do you know what she may be like?Take another view of the case--pass me the tobacco pouch--I am a selfishman as well as a poor one. You are giving me a delightful trip, findingme in food, a horse, rifle and ammunition, everything I could wish for,including a glass of prime old Bourbon whiskey. So I say, let's keep iton as long as we can. By the way, how long have we been out here?"
"Going on for six weeks."
"Which are like six days."
"Ah, well," said Harrington over and over again, "we will not give upyet."
This conversation, or one very similar, occurred again and again beforethe day waned.
Dan Portway sat with his chin in his hands gazing down at the sleepingfigure in the shade.
When Dan Portway smiled, his was a pleasant though rather a coarse face,and his changeful life had made him a man full of information, but whenhe did not smile his face was not a pleasant one, vice in more than oneform having left its mark. When he looked at Harrington waking, heinvariably smiled; but Harrington was sleeping, and Dan Portway did notsmile now.
But he sat thinking of his companion's prospects--wealth, a handsomewife, a life of luxury--and compared these prospects with his own. Ashe watched the sleeper's frank, sun-browned face, he recalled everythinghe had told him about home, his father and grandfather. He noted thering upon his finger--a heavy gold circle roughly beaten out of a pieceof virgin gold. He took in his lineaments, and compared their ages, andhe thought of the letters Harrington had among his traps in the tentmiles away beneath the pines.
There were other little things, too, there in the saddlebags, all ofwhich seemed to fit in with a misty chaotic set of ideas which floatedthrough his brain. Lastly, his eyes seemed to be fascinated by hiscompanion's breast as he lay there with his head thrown back, hisflannel shirt all open at the collar and chest, and as he gazed a ray ofsunlight shot between the boughs, and fell right upon the white skin.
Dan Portway leaned a little more forward, and his gaze grew more intent,till all at once he let himself fall sidewise on the soft pine-needles.
For Harrington had made a restless motion, and then suddenly sprung up.
"Oh, hang it!" he cried. "Hi! Dan--bears!"
"Eh? Where?" cried Portway, in an excited whisper, as he rose to hisknees and grasped the rifle at his side.
"In Noah's ark, for aught I know," cried Harrington, laughing. "Don'tseem as if we're to find a grizzly. I just woke up in time to spoilyour dinner."
"What do you mean?"
"Cannibal dinner. I was being roasted. Sun is hot."
As he spoke he gave his breast a vicious rub and buttoned the collar ofhis shirt.
"Come along. We'll go round the other side of the hill and get back tocamp. No bear to-day, but we may get a sheep."
"All right," was the reply; and Dan Portway's countenance seemed to havebeen transformed; "will you lead?"
"Yes," said the other, as he carefully examined his rifle, whilePortway's eyes contracted, and he glanced at his own rifle as if he werecalculating odds.
"Come along, old chap, we've a long road to go," said Harrington, as heled the way.
"Yes," said Portway beneath his breath, as, instead of walking boldlyand uprightly, he seemed to slouch along behind his companion.
The climb was so stiff, and in places so dangerous, that for some timeafter no word was spoken. But at last they reached a shelf on themountain, running along by a profound ravine, down to the bottom ofwhich it was possible to climb, but the task was risky.
"Bad to tumble here, Dan," said Harrington suddenly.
"Yes," said the other, with an involuntary shiver, and he drew nearer tohis companion, who suddenly stopped at a projecting portion of theshelf, and, shading his eyes, began to scan the prospect toward where,in a perfect chaos of rocks, the sinking sun was gilding the gloriousscene.
"We can easily get round to camp this way," said Harrington, after a fewmoments, and he took a step or two onward. "Mind how you come, Dan.Hist! No gammon. Bears, by Jove?"
He pointed to a spot not a dozen yards away, where there wereunmistakable traces of a grizzly having made his lair, and dragginground the little glass which hung from his shoulder, he adjusted it ashe rested his rifle against the rock, raised it to his eyes, and beganto search the hills and hollows for the game they sought.
He was leaning quite over the gulch, which fell almost perpendicularlybeneath them, his back to Portway, who was behind, and who, acting uponthe sudden impulse born of his cogitations whil
e the other slept,suddenly raised his rifle with both hands back over his head, and drovethe plated butt with all his force crash upon his companion's head.
There was a wild cry, and the next moment Portway was leaning forward atthe very edge of the precipice gazing down at the fallen body, whichplunged and rolled, and then stopped upon a mass of rock, two hundredfeet below, motionless.
Portway seemed as if turned to stone for the moment, then, rifle inhand, he ran back a dozen yards, and began to descend, slipping,leaping, and displaying wondrous activity in the perilous descent, tillhe reached the spot where George Harrington lay, and examined theinanimate form, seeing that the eyes were closed and that the blood waswelling from a terrible gash over the eyes.
Portway raised his rifle, lowered it, shook his head, and glanced round,before standing the piece against the side of the precipice, as he sawthat below them the gulch went down sheer at least five hundred feet.
Then, bending over his victim, he tore open his breast, gazed for a fewmoments at the blue stain, which stood out plainly on the white skin,and then rapidly emptied the pockets of his trousers. As he did so hiseyes fell again on the glittering plain gold ring upon Harrington'sfinger. This he hurriedly transferred to his own, seeing as he did sothat a name was roughly scratched within, and then, setting his teeth,he gave a glance round, a heedless precaution in that solitary place,caught the poor fellow by arm and waistband, raised him, and in anothermoment would have thrust him over into the gulf, when a smile full ofcunning crossed his face.
Dropping the body he drew his bowie-knife, he muttered the one word"Indian," and taking the crisp curling hair with his left hand, heprepared to give the last refined piece of diabolism to his deed bycontriving that if the body were found the first wandering tribe in theneighbourhood should get the blame.
There was no sign of compunction, no quiver of muscle or nerve; the headwas dragged up, and the next moment the point of the keen hunting-knifedivided the skin of the scalp, and the bright steel shone red in thesoft western glow.