CHAPTER XV.
TOZER.
Meanwhile Hank Hazletine was busy. He had formed several theories toaccount for the disappearance of the youth, of whom he had grownextremely fond, brief as was their acquaintance, but the data upon whichhe based these theories were so vague and meagre that he could donothing until more definite knowledge was obtained.
When first talking with Jack Dudley, the hunter expected to retain hisplace near the cavern until morning, for it would seem that there waslittle hope of doing anything until the sun shone, but reflectionconvinced him that there was a possibility of accomplishing somethingduring the long interval that must intervene. Still it is not probablehe would have made the attempt had not something invited it.
Standing in the gloom on the outside of the cavern, he saw a point oflight against the side of the nearest mountain peak, less than half amile distant. It could not be a star, for his familiarity with thecountry told him the background must prevent an orb showing at thatheight above the horizon. It came from a fire burning at the place, andthat fire had been kindled by Indians.
Hank's decision was to visit the camp, in the hope of picking up someinformation about the missing boy. It has been shown that he was soconvinced that no danger threatened Jack Dudley that he did not hesitateto leave him alone, believing him asleep. As a precaution, however, heflung additional fuel on the fire, with a view of keeping away any wildanimals that might be in the vicinity. Had Jack answered to his namewhen called by the guide he would have been invited to accompany him fora portion at least of the way on the reconnaissance, as it might betermed--a most welcome relief. Thus, trifling as was the deception, itoperated unfavorably for our young friend.
The progress of the veteran through and over the rough country was avery different proceeding from that of the two boys. He seemed never tohesitate or be in doubt as to the shortest and easiest course, and hisadvance, therefore, was much the same as if he were striding across thegrassy plateau near camp. As he went forward his shifting positionfrequently shut out the beacon-light, but he made no mistake at anypoint in his walk. It was a striking proof of his woodcraft that when hereached the canyon it was at a spot where it was so narrow that heappeared merely to lengthen his step when he placed himself on the otherside. Progressing in this manner, it did not take him long to reach theimmediate vicinity of the camp.
The blaze had been kindled among a clump of cedars which were acontinuation of a growth that extended with more or less vigor for milesamong the mountains, gradually disappearing as the snow-line wasreached. Hazletine recalled the particular spot so clearly that he knewprecisely what to do.
It was not very late in the evening, else there would have been one ofthe Indians on guard. As it was, the three were lolling in lazyattitudes, smoking their long-stemmed pipes and talking in a disjointedfashion. If they had eaten anything in camp, there were no evidences ofit.
Having reached a point from which he could survey the party withoutbeing observed, the hunter proceeded to do so. His first feeling was ofdisappointment, for Motoza was not one of the three bucks, who appearedto be in middle life, and were dressed and painted similarly to thatindividual. In fact, the trio were the ones seen by the youths earlierin the day, at the point where the break in the canyon occurred.
Hazletine had set out with the belief that the vagrant Sioux was the onechiefly concerned in the disappearance of Fred Greenwood. His absencefrom camp confirmed that belief, while the indifferent manner of thethree, and the apparent lack of subjects of discussion among them,indicated that they knew nothing of the abduction or death, as it mightbe, of the missing one. Had they known of it, the guide was confident itwould have been betrayed by their manner, since they could have nosuspicion that they were under surveillance at that time, and thereforewould act their natural selves.
What would have been the course of Hazletine had he seen Motoza, notdoubting, as he did, the guilt of the miscreant? He would have walkeddirectly forward to the camp and warned the Sioux that if he harmed ahair of the youth's head his life should pay therefor.
Since Motoza was not in the situation thus to be warned, the hunter didthe next best thing. With no attempt to veil the sound of his footsteps,he strode into the circle of light thrown out by the Indian camp-fire.The bucks looked up curiously at him, but betrayed no emotion beyond afew grunts. They did not invite him to be seated or to join them insmoking, and had they done so, neither invitation would have beenaccepted.
Hank knew nothing of the lingo of the red men, but it was presumed theyhad a fair understanding of English, taking which for granted, heproceeded to carry out his self-imposed mission. He told the bucks theyhad no business off their reservation, although it was a matter ofindifference to him. He knew there were others in the mountains, andMotoza was among them. It was concerning this scoundrel, as Hankcharacterized him, that he had something to say. A white youth, whilehunting that afternoon not far off, with his companion, had disappeared.Hazletine had looked into the matter far enough to discover that he hadbeen stolen by Motoza. The white man was hunting for Motoza, but in thebrief time at his disposal had not been able to find him, though he wasconfident of doing so on the morrow.
Meanwhile, the white man wanted these three, or any one of them, if theyshould meet the aforementioned scoundrel, to repeat what he had saidabout him. If any harm had befallen the missing boy, Hazletine wouldtake it upon himself to hunt down Motoza and "execute" him himself,without waiting for the United States authorities to do it. Such asummary course would save expense and make the white man feel better.
If Motoza should return the stolen boy within twenty-four hours, and itwas found he was unharmed, the whole matter would be treated as a joke,and no punishment would be visited upon Motoza, provided he didn't do itagain.
This was the substance of Hank Hazletine's communication to the threebucks, to whom he repeated and discussed it until there was no fear of amisunderstanding, after which the visitor strode out of camp, without somuch as bidding the trio good-night. His whole manner was that ofcontempt, for, had it been otherwise, he would not have dared to turnhis back upon them, when they could have shot him down with impunity.
The cowman had accomplished something, though less than he hoped. Whilehe failed to gain definite knowledge of the missing youth, he hadbrought a message which was certain to be delivered to the right partybefore the next set of sun. But Hank knew the men with whom he wasdealing, and could not feel assured that any ultimate good would resultuntil nearer the end.
"I wish I knowed whether them imps know anything about that younker;they don't act as if they did, and yet they may be as deep in thebus'ness as Motoza."
The last remark suggested a possibility which the cowman shrank fromconsidering. It was that the Sioux was wholly innocent, and that all themischief had been done through unsuspected parties. It has been shownthat other Indians, not yet encountered, were in the vicinity, and itwas not absolutely certain that they were not the criminals. Thethought, however, opened the illimitable fields of speculation, and thehunter was wise in determining to hold to his original belief untilassured it was an error.
Before he was half-way back to camp the moon appeared above the mountainpeak behind him, and the rugged scenery was lit up by the rays thatstreamed on every side. He paused where he could observe the gleam ofhis own camp-fire at the mouth of the cavern, while, by turning hishead, he saw the twinkle of the one he had left behind. All between layas silent as the tomb.
"I bluffed it pretty heavy," he reflected, "and I guess it'll work withthem bucks; I ain't so sartin of Motoza, fur if he has had anything todo with the taking off of that younker he's covered up his tracks prettywell and it'll be hard work to run him down, but _I'll do it_!" hesavagely exclaimed, as he resumed his strides toward his own camp.
As he drew near he caught sight of the unconscious figure of JackDudley, sitting with his back against the rock. The moon revealed himclearly, and the cowman approached him with noiseless step.
/> "Poor fellow! he come out here to watch, thinking he couldn't sleep, andnow he's good for nothing till sunup."
Hank leaned over and tenderly adjusted the blanket around the figure ofthe handsome youth, as his mother might have done had she been present.Then passing within the cavern, he lay down and slept until the nightwas ended.
The presence of the lad on the outside of the cavern showed that he knewof the departure of the guide. Hank, therefore, explained his reason forleaving him, and told him all that had occurred.
"The first thing to do, younker, is to find Motoza; that's what I'mgoing to do. You can't stand it to be alone with yourself, so you cancome with me, though I hain't no idee that you'll be able to give anyhelp."
"I hope I shall; though, if you think there is more chance of success inmaking the hunt alone, I'll do the same."
Hank was silent a moment, as if considering the matter, but he quicklyadded:
"Come along. But how about breakfast?"
"I haven't the least appetite."
"I thought so by your looks," he said, sympathizingly. "I'm blamed sorryfur you, and hope your appetite will soon come back to you."
"It will as soon as we find Fred," said Jack, with a faint smile; "butwhat about yourself?"
"It's all the same; if we had meat here I'd cook and eat it; but I'mwilling to go a day or two, if I haven't the time to take any meals."
"That's strange!" broke in Jack; "yonder comes a white man; he must beone of your acquaintances, though I never saw him before."
Hazletine turned round in surprise. A tall white man, dressed as acowboy, with long dangling yellow hair and a thin mustache and goatee,and with rifle slung over his shoulder, had appeared on the further sideof the plateau, and was approaching the couple at a deliberate pace.
"Wal, I'm hanged!" exclaimed Hazletine; "if there isn't Bill Tozer! He'sthe last man I expected to meet in these parts."
These words did not bring Jack Dudley much enlightenment, but he felt nospecial curiosity concerning the individual, and silently waited till hecame up. The youth judged from the manner of the guide, however, that hewas not overly pleased with the new arrival, whose countenance was notattractive. Nevertheless, the two shook hands with seeming cordiality,and the new-comer looked inquiringly at Jack.
"This is a friend of mine, Bill, that I took out on a hunt t'other daywith another younker; Jack Dudley, Bill Tozer."
"Glad to know you," said the man heartily; "I see you're a tenderfoot."
"Yes," replied Jack; "less than two weeks ago I had never set foot inWyoming."
"Wal, now that's funny; you'll like the country after you get used toit."
"Would to heaven I had never seen it!" was the bitter exclamation of theyouth, hardly able to keep back his tears.
"Sorry to hear that, my young friend; but cheer up; it'll come out allright."
It struck Jack that this was a singular remark for the man to make, forit sounded as if he knew the cause of Jack's emotion; but before the boycould seek enlightenment the man made a more extraordinary remark:
"You'll excuse us for a few minutes, my young friend; I've some words tosay in private to Hank."
"Certainly," replied Jack, turning on his heel and walking beyondearshot. He gave the men no further attention, for he did not suspectthe new-comer had anything to impart of interest to him. The boy feltmore like resenting this interference with the momentous business he andthe guide had on hand.
But Jack was mistaken. Hardly was he a hundred feet from the couple whenHazletine asked:
"What's up, Bill?"
"One of them young tenderfeet is missing, eh?"
"How did you find that out?"
"I reached the camp of Bok-kar-oo last night within a half-hour afteryou'd gone; he and two other bucks are out on a hunt, which they haven'tany business to be, but that's nothing to us. Bok-kar-oo told me whatyou had told him; it's queer business, isn't it?"
"I should say it was. That Motoza has had a hand in it, and I've set outto find him and settle the account."
"Why are you so sure about Motoza?"
"'Cause I _know_ him!" said Hank, savagely; "and I've knowed him fur agood many years; there isn't a worse Injin in Wyoming."
Instead of commenting on this remark, Tozer stood silent a moment, andthen made a flirt with his head as a request for Hank to step aside withhim. The cowman obeyed, and they seated themselves still further fromJack Dudley.
"What makes you so afeard he'll hear us?" asked Hazletine, impatiently,noting the suspicious glances which the man cast in the direction of theyouth.
"For the reason that I don't want him to hear us; I've something to sayabout him and his friend."
"His father owns half of Bowman's ranch."
Bill Tozer started with an angry exclamation.
"Is that so?" he asked in amazement. "I thought it was the otherfellow's father."
"How should you know anything about it anyway?" demanded Hazletine, whomade no attempt to conceal his dislike of the man. "I'd like to knowwhere you picked up so much knowledge 'bout these two younkers."
"There's no need of getting huffy about it, Hank; it seemed to me that Iwas to be on your heels for the last few days, for I stopped at theranch and had a talk with the fellows only a short time after you leftwith the tenderfeet for this hunt. I understood Kansas Jim to say thatit was the father of the Greenwood boy that owned half the ranch."
"If Jim told you that, which I don't believe he done, he told you whatain't so."
"But the father of the other boy--the one that's missing--he's rich too,ain't he?"
"I don't know nothing 'bout it; what are you driving at? Bill, you knowthat my 'pinion of you is 'bout the same as it is of that tramp Motoza,so, if you've got anything to say to me, out with it! I hain't any timeto fool away."
"I _have_ something to say, Hank, and it's about them young tenderfeet:I've seen Motoza."
"When?"
"This morning."
"Did you give him my message?"
"Every word of it, as I received it from Bok-kar-oo; I made it as strongas I could."
"You couldn't make it any too strong; how did he take it?"
"It didn't seem to worry him much; he says he don't know anything aboutthe missing boy and your threats don't scare him. But, Hank," addedTozer, lowering his voice almost to a whisper and glancing furtivelyaround, "I suspect Motoza was lying."
"I _know_ he was, fur he doesn't know how to tell the truth."
"If he's treated right, I believe he'll produce the missing youngster."
Hank Hazletine was keener mentally than most of his friends suspected.He had more acumen than even Bill Tozer suspected. A great light flashedupon the cowman, and the questions and answers which fell from his lipsduring the next few minutes were intended to hide his real purpose.
"What do you mean by treating Motoza right? If he was treated right he'dbe kicking the air this very minute."
"I agree with you," said Tozer, laughing; "but Motoza doesn't, and he'sthe one who asks to be treated right, as he considers it."
"I've said that if he produces the younker, and we find he hain't beenharmed, why we'll call it a joke and drop the whole thing."
Tozer gazed at a distant mountain peak and thoughtfully chewed tobaccofor a minute. He was approaching delicate ground and needed all his_finesse_.
"That's fair on your part, and is more than he ought to expect, but I'vea suspicion it isn't what he means."
"Do you know what he means, Bill?"
"No; he hasn't told me a word, but I think I can guess it."
"Wal, then, guess."
"Remember it's only a guess, and I may be away off."
Hazletine nodded his head.
"I'm listening."
"I suspect Motoza has the tenderfoot in hiding somewhere, where there'sno chance of his getting away or of any of his friends finding him."
"What does the scamp mean by doing that?"
"He must have had an idea that the
father of the Greenwood boy hasenough money to pay a good sum to recover him unharmed."
"That's a new scheme! I've heard of such things in the East, but neverknowed 'em to be tried in this part of the country."
"Bear in mind," Tozer hastened to add, "that it's all guesswork on mypart."
"You've said that afore, but it's powerful good guessing, Bill. It's my'pinion you ain't a thousand miles from the truth, but you can see thismakes a mighty different thing of the bus'ness."
"How so?"
"The younker's father lives in New York; he's got to be reached, and thequestion laid afore him. How much money will Motoza ask to produce theyounker?"
"Certainly not much--something like five thousand dollars, I shouldsay."
"That is rather a healthy pile for you or me, but I don't 'spose it'smore than a trifle for them folks in the East."
"Of course not; they'll raise it at once, and be glad to do so."
"But it'll take two weeks at least."
"Not necessarily; you can telegraph from Fort Steele, and two or threedays ought to wind up the whole business."
"But you can't telegraph the money."
"Yes, you can; nothing is easier."
Hazletine was silent a minute or two.
"It sounds easy 'nough, the way you put it, but it won't be so powerfuleasy after all. I s'pose the Sioux will want the money afore he turnsover the younker?"
"Of course; that's business."
"How can we know he'll give up the younker after he gits the money?"
"In a matter of this kind, a point must be reached where one party hasto trust the other, and Motoza wouldn't dare play you false."
"He wouldn't, eh? Just give him the chance."
"Then we won't let him. I'll guarantee that he shall keep his part ofthe agreement in spirit and letter."
It was on Hazletine's tongue to ask who should guarantee the honesty ofBill Tozer, but for reasons of his own he kept back the question.
"Wal, now, to git down to bus'ness, as you say; s'pose Doctor Greenwoodsends word that he won't or can't raise the money you ask--what then?"
Tozer shrugged his shoulders suggestively.
"Don't forget that I am guessing all the way through. I should say,however, that Doctor Greenwood would never see his boy again."
"I'm afraid he never will, as the matter now stands."
"That depends on the parent. If he is not rich, the father of that youngman over yonder is, and he would let him have the money."
"No doubt he'd do that very thing; but s'pose the thing is all fixed andcarried out as you've been saying--does Motoza fancy there won't be someaccounts to be squared with him afterwards?"
"You know what a cunning fellow he is. He wouldn't go through with thejob until he was guaranteed against any punishment for his part in it."
"The father of the younker would give the pledge, and he'd keep it, too,if he's anything like his son. But what 'bout Hank Hazletine?"
"He would have to make the same promise--that is, I presume he would. Itmight be, however, that Motoza would feel able to take care of himself,so far as you are concerned. But we are talking blindly."
"Is there any other way to talk?"
"You say you were just about starting out to hunt up Motoza. You won'tbe able to find him, for he'll keep out of your sight. Leave that partof the business to me."
"What'll you do?"
"I'll explain the situation to him, and then come back and have anothertalk with you."
"All right; you can't do it any too soon."