CHAPTER VII
THE STRANGE AWAKENING
THERE was little that the two lads did not know about making a camp,for they had been accustomed to spending nights in the woods eversince they first learned to handle a gun, and bring down the game sonecessary for daily food.
The spot chosen by their guide for passing the night was as suitableas could be found at that late hour. Around them lay the woods, thetrees tall and not of any generous girth, for the slopes of the hillsbordering the Yellowstone are covered with a growth of pine that is notnoted for its size.
When Mayhew tossed his pack aside the boys followed suit. They had madea long day of it, and were tired, though ready enough to keep movingcould it be to their advantage.
The woodranger started to make his little cooking fire, while Dickand Roger arranged their blankets and made other preparations for thenight. If they noticed the actions of the guide at all it was withslight interest, for both were fully acquainted with the methods whichhe used in his work.
Like many other things copied from the Indians, this idea of a smallblaze that could not betray their presence had become a part of everywoodsman's education. The way in which it was done was very simple.
First a hole was scooped out of a place where there was somethingof a depression, and in this a small quantity of inflammable tinderwas placed. Flint and steel, upon being brought violently together,produced the necessary spark, and the handful of fine wood took fire.
It was carefully guarded on all sides so that not a ray might escape toattract attention; and, when sufficient red coals had accumulated, whatcooking was necessary could be carried on over them.
When properly done, this sort of fire might remain undetected twentypaces away by the possessor of the keenest vision. Only the presenceof suspicious odors, such as of burning wood, or food cooking, mightbetray the fact that there was a fire in the vicinity.
All Mayhew wanted was to heat some water, and make a pot of tea, ofwhich he was very fond, although it was a great luxury of that earlyday. The supper itself would have to be eaten just as it was. They hada fair amount of bread, such as was baked by the camp cook; plenty ofpemmican, and that was about all. If the food supply ran short theymust depend wholly on what game they could bring down with their rifles.
Most boys of to-day would view such a limited bill of fare with alarm,and think starvation was staring them in the face. These lads of thefrontier, however, were accustomed to privations. They faced emptylarders every time stormy weather prevented hunting. And early in lifethey learned that it does no good to borrow trouble.
The night closed in around them. Dick and his cousin lay in theirblankets and conversed in whispers, while Mayhew continued to busyhimself over his tiny fire.
Around them lay the wilderness that was almost unknown to the foot ofwhite man, yet it did not seem to awe these adventurous souls, simplybecause they had been brought up in the school of experience, and werefamiliar with nearly all the ordinary features of a vast solitude.
"MEAGER THOUGH THAT SUPPER MAY HAVE BEEN, THERE WAS NOTA WORD OF COMPLAINT"]
When the guide had his pannikin of tea ready he told the boys to fallto, and, being sharp pressed by hunger, they did not wait for a secondinvitation. Meager though that supper may have been, there was not aword of complaint, even from Roger. The pemmican tasted good to him,the dry bread was just what he craved, and the bitter decoction whichMayhew had brewed seemed almost like nectar.
Having accomplished its mission, the tiny fire was allowed to dieout. Mayhew managed to light his pipe, which appeared to afford himmuch solace, and all three lay there, taking things as comfortably aspossible, while they discussed in low tones the prospects ahead of them.
Each one offered an opinion with regard to what sort of weather theymight expect in the near future. In doing this they consulted thestars, together with the prevailing winds, and whether this lastseemed to carry any moisture in its breath since that would indicateapproaching rain or snow.
It was the general belief that the prospect could be set down asuncertain. It might storm, or another fair day might speed them ontheir way; matters had not as yet developed far enough to settle thisquestion.
The silence that had accompanied the coming of the night no longer heldsway.
From time to time various sounds drifted to their ears to announce thatthe pine forest bordering the banks of the mysterious Yellowstone Riverwere the haunts of many wild animals that left their dens, after thesetting of the sun, for the purpose of roaming the wilderness in searchof prey.
Far in the distance they could occasionally hear, when the windfavored, the mad yelping of a pack of gray mountain wolves, undoubtedlyon the track of a stag which they meant to have for their midnightsupper, if pertinacity and savage pursuit could accomplish it.
Closer at hand there came other sounds. Once the boys stopped speaking,and bent their heads to catch a repetition of a peculiar cry that wouldhave sent a cold chill through any one unaccustomed to woods life.
"That sounded like a painter to me, Dick!" ventured Roger, handling hisgun, so as to make sure the weapon was within reach of his hand.
Of course a "painter" meant a panther, for it was so called by nearlyall back-woodsmen and pioneers of that day. And these two lads knewwell what a fierce antagonist one of those great gray cats became whenwounded, or ferociously hungry.
"Yes, that was just what I thought," replied Dick; "but there isn'tmuch chance he'll bother to pay us a visit to-night. The woods are bigenough to give him all the hunting he wants, without trying to invadeour camp."
"There seems to be plenty of life in this valley of the YellowstoneRiver," the second boy continued, "and, even if Jasper Williams failsto find the Happy Hunting Grounds he is looking for, he might do lotsworse than stay around here."
"Yes, I am sure there must be lots of fur to be picked up, and we sawplenty of elk, you remember, Roger, as well as other food animals. Fromwhat we have learned, the Indians never come in this direction unlessthey are compelled to by a scarcity of game in other places."
"All on account of their believing an Evil Spirit haunts the land,"commented Roger. "As for myself, I think all those stories must be madeup in the brains of foolish people. I would never believe one of themunless I saw the things with my own eyes."
"We may know more about them before we finish this journey," Dickremarked complacently.
"When you last examined the tracks left by Jasper Williams and hisparty, Benjamin, how old did you make them out to be?" inquired Rogerof the guide.
"We are one day's journey behind them," came the assured reply.
"And if they should choose to linger on the trail we may overtake themby to-morrow night," added Dick, in order to comfort his cousin.
"Then all I can say," continued Roger, "is that I hope they'll runshort of fresh meat, and conclude to loiter on the road. If Jasperonly discovers a big colony of beaver in a stream, I think he would betempted to camp near by and start trapping."
"Yes," Mayhew remarked, reflectively, between puffs, "he is alwaystalking about beaver pelts, and I have heard him say many times that henever could resist taking the broadtails if given a fair opportunity."
"Well, we have seen signs of the houses of the little animals severaltimes as we came upon streams that flowed into the river," said Roger,"so there may be a chance of our coming upon him before another sungoes down."
The thought appeared to give him satisfaction, and from that timeon Dick noticed a difference in Roger's manner. Only one thing keptcropping up to make him sigh occasionally, and this was the possibilityof snow catching them, and in a short time obliterating the trail ofthe party ahead.
The last thing Roger did, before wrapping himself in his blanket, wasto step over to where he could look up at the heavens. The stars wereshining peacefully. They did not look unusually bright, which wouldhave been a bad outlook, according to the woodsman's reckoning of theweather signs. The bank of low-hanging clouds must have r
emained closealong the horizon, or else passed away by some other route, for he nowsaw no trace of them.
"I really believe it will be all right, Dick," was his cheerfulannouncement as he settled down for a good night's sleep.
Dick did not reply; but, knowing how capricious the weather couldprove, he had already made up his mind to be surprised at nothing.Even if he awoke in the morning to find three inches of snow coveringthe ground, coming so silently they had not known of its fall, he wasprepared to take it philosophically. Perhaps, like a wise general, hehad already mapped out in his mind just what course they must pursueunder such conditions, for Dick Armstrong had always been prone toforesee difficulties, and prepare to meet them as they came.
Roger soon fell asleep. Even his thoughts of the faraway home were ofa pleasant nature, and not calculated to keep him awake. Besides, thatlong day's tramp over so much rough ground had wearied his muscles, anda languor came upon him shortly after he wrapped his blanket about him.
A root served as a pillow. These hardy sons of the frontier neededno down under their heads as they slept. Privations they had beenaccustomed to from infancy, and a small amount of comfort usuallysatisfied them. Doubtless their slumber was all the more sound on thataccount.
Roger had no means of telling whether one hour or five had crept by,when he was aroused by something that gave him a fierce tug. Instantlyhe was awake, and, although at first he imagined he must have beendreaming, he changed his mind when he heard a low, snarling sound closeto his ears, and felt another of those queer tugs.
It was cold, for, in rolling about as he slept, he must have displacedhis blanket.
That jerk at his right leg gave Roger a thrill. He realized thatsomething had taken hold of his fringed deerskin trousers, and wasendeavoring to drag him aside. Even as this startling convictionflashed through his mind, for a third time he heard that low growl. Itwas like that of a dog, when some one approaches while he is gnawing abone.
Roger slightly raised his head and saw two gleaming yellow spots thatseemed to glow like coals of fire.
He knew they were the eyes of some sort of forest beast that wascrouching close alongside him; though why it had seized upon histrouser leg and kept up this spasmodic tugging Roger could notcomprehend.
Where was his rifle? He put out a hand, groping for the weapon, whichaction was the signal for more growls, and a spitting sound such as acat might make. Then he heard a low whispering voice saying:
"Keep still, Roger; don't move! I've got my gun, and can fix him!Steady, now!"
Then came a mighty crash that awoke the echoes of the forest.