CHAPTER XIII.
A STRANGE OCCURRENCE.
Once more Motoza had allowed an American youth to get the drop on him,for he could not mistake the meaning of that command, nor the deepereloquence of the pose of Fred Greenwood with his rifle at a dead level.The Sioux must have despised himself for his forgetfulness.
But he had already proven the readiness with which he accepted asituation, no matter how unwelcome. The hand that held the weapon ofJack Dudley whipped round to the front with a deft movement, which,however, was not quicker than the return of the grin to his countenance.
"Motoza friend--he not want gun of brother," he remarked.
"You wouldn't get it if you _did_ want it," said Jack, not to bemollified by this sudden change of front. Instead of accepting thehypocritical proffer, the youth was imprudent enough to add, as he felthis Winchester once more in his grasp:
"You are the meanest thief in the country, Motoza, and this must be thelast time you try your hand on us."
"Off with you!" added Fred, beginning to tire with the constraint of hisposition; "good-by, Motoza, and I hope we shall not meet again."
At the moment of obeying, the Sioux glanced at the lad who had thusturned the tables on him. The expression of his face was frightful.Ferocious hate, thirst for revenge and flaming anger shone through thecoat of paint and were concentrated on the younger of the youths. Fredsaw it and cared not, but Jack was so alarmed that he almost wished hiscomrade would fire his weapon and thus shut out the fruition of thehorrible threat that gleamed through that look.
It lasted, however, but an instant. Much in the same manner as in thegrove, when caught at a disadvantage by Jack Dudley, the Sioux walkedoff and was quickly lost to view.
Neither of the boys spoke for several minutes. Then Jack asked, in anawed voice:
"Did you see his face when he turned toward you just before walkingaway?"
"Yes; and I have seen handsomer ones."
"You may make light of it, Fred, but I was much nearer than you, andthat expression will haunt me for many a day and night to come."
To the astonishment of the elder, Fred began laughing, as if he found itall very amusing. Jack, in surprise, asked the cause of his mirth.
"If Motoza had only known the truth! There isn't a cartridge either inthe magazine or the chamber of my rifle, which reminds me."
And still laughing, the younger proceeded to fill the magazine from hisbelt and to put his Winchester in condition for immediate use.
"We have been told many times, Jack, that the first thing to do afterfiring a gun is to reload, and I see how much more important it is herethan at home."
When Jack came to examine his weapon he found a half-dozen cartridgesremaining in the magazine, and he, too, placed the weapon in the bestform for use. They changed their position, returning to the spot wherethe crisis had taken place with the grizzly, for both felt somemisgiving concerning the Sioux, who could not be far off.
"Jack, what about the feelings of Motoza _now_?"
"It begins to look as if Hank was right. I am sure the Indian doesn'thold much friendship for either of us. He is bad clean through."
"He may have some regard for _you_, but there wasn't much tenderaffection in the last lingering look he gave _me_."
Jack shuddered.
"I never saw anything like it. If he had had the power he would havekilled you with that look. I feel like urging Hank, when we next seehim, to make a change of quarters."
"Why?"
"That we may find some section where we are not likely to meet Motozaagain. I don't understand why so many Indians are off the reservation.There must be a number of them that are friends of Motoza, and they willtry some other trick on us."
"He has tried one or two already," replied Fred, much less impressedwith the danger than his friend.
"True, we have had remarkably good fortune, but it can't last. Motozawill learn to be more cunning next time."
"If you feel that way, Jack, the best thing for us to do is to go home."
"Your words are hardly worthy of you, Fred," replied Jack, hurt at theslur.
"I ask your pardon. I know it is your friendship for me that speaks, butI cannot feel the fear that disturbs you. Suppose we drop the questiontill we see Hank. We will let him know everything that has taken placeand rely upon him."
This was a wise conclusion, but the fact remained that there was noexpectation of seeing their guide until night, which was a number ofhours distant, and, since the Indians were in the vicinity, there wasplenty of time for a great many things to happen. It would seem, indeed,that the advantage was almost entirely on the side of Motoza, for, withhis superior woodcraft, he could keep track of the movements of the boyswithout their discovering or suspecting his presence. Altogether, itlooked as if a meeting with their guide could not take place too soon.
From a point perhaps a mile away came the faint report of a rifle,followed in the same second by another report. The fact suggested morethan one startling supposition, but the youths were in no mood tospeculate thereon, for it will be admitted that the incidents of theforenoon were sufficient to engage their thoughts.
It was a hard fact, however, that when they looked at their watches andfound that it was noon, the most interesting subject that presenteditself was as to how they could secure the meal which they felt wasoverdue.
"Let's make a hunt in a different direction," said Fred. "It is best tokeep away from the neighborhood of those Indians, so far as we canlocate them from the shots we occasionally hear, for the game isn'tlikely to stay where they are."
"Off yonder to the north appears to be a valley," remarked Jack, afterthe two had studied their surroundings for some minutes through theirglasses. "I can't tell how extensive it is, for it is shut out by thatmountain peak on the right, but I suppose one place is as good asanother."
Having agreed as to their course, they wasted no time. It was a long andsevere tramp to the locality, for again the peculiar purity of theatmosphere misled them, and what they took to be one mile proved to befully double that length. Finally the hungry lads reached a ridge fromwhose top they could look down in the valley that had first caught theirattention, but which for the last hour had been excluded from theirsight by the intervening obstacles.
"Now, we can't tell whether any game is below waiting for us," saidJack, "but we can't lose anything by acting as if there is."
It was a wise precaution, as speedily became apparent. As carefully as acouple of Indians they picked their way up the slope, and just beforereaching the crest sank upon their knees, and, crawling a littlefurther, peeped over the top as if they expected to discover a hostilecamp within a hundred yards.
The prospect caused an involuntary exclamation of pleasure from both.The valley was two or three hundred yards in width, and, after windingpast, curved out of sight behind the mountain range already referred to.It was one emerald mass of rich grass, in which ten thousand cattlecould have found abundant pasturage. No trees appeared anywhere exceptat the furthest bend in the valley, where a small grove stood near themiddle, and seemed to surround a spring of water, which, flowing in theother direction, was not within sight of the young hunters.
What lent additional beauty to this landscape was the singularuniformity of the valley. The slope was gentle on each side, without anyabrupt declivities, and there was hardly any variation in its width. Thedark-green color of the incline and bottom of the valley gave the wholescene a softness that would have charmed an artist.
The young men admired the picturesque prospect, the like of which theyhad never before viewed, and yet it must be confessed that one featureof the landscape appealed more strongly to them than all the rest.Perhaps a half-mile away six or eight antelope were cropping the grass,unconscious of the approach of danger. They were near the small clump oftrees alluded to, and may have lately drank from the water flowingtherefrom. They were in a bunch, all their heads down, and had evidentlytaken no alarm from the occasional distant repo
rts of guns.
"I say, Jack, there's a splendid dinner!" whispered Fred, excitedly.
"What good will it do us, so long as it is _there_? I should like tohave it _here_."
"It ought to be easy to pick off one of those creatures; Hank told usthey make fine eating."
"That is all true, but it is also true that the antelope is one of themost timid of creatures, and the best hunter finds it hard work to getwithin reach of them."
"You know how curious they are? The men at the ranch told the othernight about lying down in the grass in the middle of a prairie andholding up a stick with a handkerchief at the end of it. Timid as wasthe antelope, it would gradually draw near to find out what the thingmeant, and pay for its curiosity with its life."
Such incidents are quite common in the West, but neither of the boysfelt it safe to rely upon the stratagem. They feared that at the firstattempt the antelope would take fright and make off beyond recovery, andFred Greenwood's proposition was adopted.
"There doesn't seem to be any wind blowing, but if we try to steal downthe side of the valley we are sure to frighten them off. Now, if youwill stay here, Jack, I'll pick my way round to the other side, so thatthe herd will be between us. Then I'll do my best to get near enough fora shot; if I fail, they will run for this point and come within range ofyou. Between us two, one is certain to get a shot at them."
"It's putting a big lot of work on you, Fred," said the chivalrous Jack.
"It won't be half as hard to bear as the hunger I'll feel in the courseof an hour or two if we don't get one of them."
The plan was so simple that no explanation was necessary. Jack Dudleyhad only to remain extended on the ground where he was, with hisWinchester ready, and keep an eye on the little herd, which could notobserve him unless he was unusually careless. He could easily judge ofFred's success or failure by watching the animals, and it would seemthat success was almost certain for one of the young hunters. The onlything to be feared was that Fred would betray himself before reachingthe other side of the game that was so tempting to both.
The comrades looked at their watches at the moment of separating, andfound it was precisely one o'clock. Fred gave himself an hour to reach apoint from which to start on his return, though it was possible thatdouble that time would be required. Before the interval had expired Jackhad his glass to his eyes, and was studying the valley below.
As the antelope cropped the rich grass they occasionally took a step inthe direction of the watcher; but the largest one, evidently the leader,changed his course so as to work back toward the little grove of trees,the others following. Now and then the leader raised his head and lookedaround, as if suspecting danger, though his fears were not confirmed. Atlonger intervals other members of the herd did the same, but it wasevident that they neither saw nor scented anything amiss.
Jack's constant fear was that Fred would betray himself through someaccident. His course would bring him nearer the game and the risk wasconsiderable; but as the minutes passed without anything of that naturetaking place, his hope increased.
"More than likely Fred himself will get the shot instead of me. It makesno difference, so that we don't lose our supper; for," he added,dismally, "the dinner is already gone."
When another half-hour had passed, he was sure his chum was on the otherside of the herd.
"There must be a break pretty soon. Suppose that instead of comingtoward me," added Jack, giving expression to a dread that had notoccurred to him until then, "they dash off into the mountains on eitherside. Then we shall be doomed to starvation!"
He thought that with the aid of his glass he would be able to followFred as he stole down the side of the valley, since the position of thespectator was much more elevated than that of the antelope. It wouldrequire sharp scrutiny even with the aid of the instrument to do this,and, look as keenly as he might, he could discover nothing thatsuggested anything of that nature.
When three o'clock went by without any evidence of alarm among theanimals browsing in the middle of the valley, Jack Dudley began towonder what it could mean.
"Fred was sure that a single hour was enough to place himself on thefurther side of them, and double that time has passed. He ought to bewell down the slope, but I can see nothing of him."
One fact, however, was apparent: the antelope were steadily thoughslowly working toward the ridge on which the young man lay. At the ratethey were advancing it would not be long before it would be safe to trya shot.
This progress could not be laid to any alarm coming from the other side.If the animals received fright they would be off with the speed of thewind, instead of inching along in the fashion they were now following.
"It begins to look as if I am to secure the meal, after all," thoughtJack, forgetting his slight uneasiness for his friend in his growingexcitement.
The following minute gave proof of the timidity of the Americanantelope. With all the care possible, the youth extended his gun infront of him over the slope, but the herd took the alarm on the instant,though it seemed impossible that they should have seen or heardanything. The leader raised his head, and whirling to one side, startedat a swift gallop toward the other end of the valley, the rest of theanimals being hardly a second behind him.
The peculiar panic and stampede of the creatures gave Jack Dudley thebest possible target, though the shot was a long one. He did not aim atthe leader, but at a smaller animal that immediately followed him. Thebullet pierced the heart of the antelope, which made a frenzied leaphigh in air, staggered a few paces, and dropped to the ground without aparticle of life.
"Hurrah!" exclaimed the delighted Jack, springing up and dashing downthe side of the valley toward his prize; "I beat you, after all, Fred!"
Not doubting that his comrade would speedily appear, Jack gave nofurther thought to him, but continued running until he reached theprize. He had learned the art so rapidly that it took but a few minutesto cut all he could need for himself and friend. Then he hurried to thelittle grove near by, washed and dressed the food, which seemed to bejuicy and tender, and started a fire for the purpose of broiling it.
He had not paused in his work up to this point, but now he stopped withthe first real thrill of alarm for his friend.
"Four o'clock!" he exclaimed to himself; "what can have become of him?"
He walked to the edge of the trees and looked out, anxiously peering indifferent directions, but nothing was seen of his friend. Knowing Fred'swaggish nature, Jack hoped that he was indulging in some jest, but hecould not quite convince himself that such was the fact. The hunger ofFred would have prevented his postponing the meal one moment longer thanwas necessary.
When an abundance of food was browned and crisped and ready the appetiteof Jack Dudley was less than it was two hours before, the cause beinghis growing alarm over the unaccountable absence of Fred.
"I can't understand it," he repeated for the twentieth time; "someaccident must have befallen him. Can it be Motoza has had anything to dowith it?"
It was the first time that Jack had expressed this fear in words, but itwas by no means the first time he had felt it. Rather curiously, fromthe moment his friend passed out of sight, several hours before, thevague misgiving began to shape itself in his mind. He fought it off andsucceeded in repressing it for a time, but he could do so no longer.
"Fred didn't seem to give any meaning to that awful look of the Siouxwhen he started to walk away, but I saw what it meant, though I neverdreamed the blow would fall so soon."
His heart was depressed almost beyond bearing, and the anguish wasdeepened by the fact that he could see no way of helping his friend. Theonly thing possible was to follow as nearly as he could the course takenby Fred, but there was no certainty of that. He knew he had turned tothe right when he left the crest of the ridge, after which there hadbeen no glimpse of him.
"But he made for a point over yonder," reflected Jack, "and there I'llsearch for him."
This was exceedingly indefinite, but it w
as better than standing idle.The antelope had long since vanished, and there was no need of care inhis progress--rather otherwise, since he desired to attract the noticeof his friend. Jack broke into a loping trot, emitting the familiarsignal so often used by both, calling his name, and even firing hisrifle in air; but there came back no response, and his fears deepened.
Jack was in the mood to be unjust.
"I don't understand Hank Hazletine's action. He sets out to take us on ahunt among the mountains, and then goes off and leaves us alone. Whydoesn't he stay with us? If he had done that, this never could havehappened. Fred and I can generally take care of ourselves, but we arenot used to this plagued country, which I wish neither he nor I had everset foot in."