Charlie to the Rescue

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

  The Cave of the Outlaws Invaded by Ghosts and US Troops.

  We need scarcely say that Buck Tom was wise enough to put a bridle onhis tongue after the warning hint he had received from the scout. Hefound this all the easier that he had nothing to conceal save theChristian name of his friend Leather, and, as it turned out, this wasnever asked for by the commander of the troops. All that the dyingoutlaw could reveal was that Jake the Flint had suddenly made hisappearance in the cave only a short time previously, had warned hiscomrades, and, knowing that he (Buck) was mortally wounded, and thatLeather was helplessly weak from a wound which had nearly killed him,had left them both to their fate. That, just after they had gone, anunusually broad powerful man, with his face concealed, had suddenlyentered the cave and carried Leather off, in spite of his struggles, andthat, about half-an-hour later, Hunky Ben had arrived to find the cavedeserted by all but himself. Where the other outlaws had gone to hecould not tell--of course they would not reveal that to a comrade whowas sure to fall into the hands of their enemies.

  "And you have no idea," continued the captain, "who the man is thatcarried your friend Leather so hurriedly away?"

  "Not the slightest," returned Buck. "Had my revolver been handy and anounce of strength left in me, you wouldn't have had to ask thequestion."

  "Passing strange!" murmured Captain Wilmot, glancing at the scout, whowas at the moment seated on a keg before the fire lighting his pipe, andwith a look of simple benignant stolidity on his grave countenance."Have _you_ no idea, Ben, where these outlaws have taken themselves offto?"

  "No more'n a lop-eared rabbit, Captain Wilmot," answered the scout."You see there's a good many paths by which men who knows the placecould git out o' the Trap, an' once out o' it there's the whole o' theRockie range where to pick an' choose."

  "But how comes it, Ben, that you missed Jake? Surely the road is not sobroad that you could pass him unseen! Yet you arrived here before him?"

  "That's true, sir, but sly coons like the Flint can retire into thebrush when they don't want to be overhauled. That wasn't the way of it,however. With such a splendid animal as your poor horse, Captain, an'ridden to death as it was--an' as I 'spected it would be--I knowed I hadno chance o' comin' up wi' the Flint, so I took advantage o' myknowledge o' the lay o' the land, an' pushed ahead by a straighterline--finishin' the last bit on futt over the ridge of a hill. Thatsent me well ahead o' the Flint, an' so I got here before him. Havin'ways of eavesdroppin' that other people don't know on, I peeped into thecave here, and saw and heard how matters stood. Then I thought o'harkin' back on my tracks an' stoppin' the Flint wi' a bullet but Ireflected `what good'll that do? The shot would wake up the outlaws an'putt them on the scent all the same.' Then I tried to listen what theirtalk was about, so as I might be up to their dodges; but I hadn't binlistenin' long when in tramps the Flint an' sounds the alarm. Of courseI might have sent him an p'r'aps one o' the others to their long homefrom where I stood; but I've always had an objection to shoot a manbehind his back. It has such a sneakin' sort o' feel about it! An'then, the others--I couldn't see how many there was--would have swarmedout on me, an' I'd have had to make tracks for the scrub, an' larnnothin' more. So I fixed to keep quiet an' hear and see all that Icould--p'r'aps find out where they fixed to pull out to. But I heardnothin' more worth tellin'. They only made some hurried, an' by nomeans kindly, observations about poor Buck an' Leather an' went off overthe hills. I went into the woods a bit myself after that, just to bewell out o' the way, so to speak, an' when I got back here Leather wasgone!"

  "And you didn't see the man that carried him off?"

  "No, I didn't see him."

  "You'd have shot him, of course, if you had seen him?"

  "No, indeed, captain, I wouldn't."

  "No! why not?" asked the captain with a peculiar smile.

  "Well, because," answered the scout, with a look of great solemnity, "Iwouldn't shoot such a man on any account--no matter what he was doin'!"

  "Indeed!" returned the other with a broadening smile. "I had no ideayou were superstitious, Ben. I thought you feared neither man nordevil."

  "What I fear an' what I don't fear," returned the scout with quietdignity, "is a matter which has never given me much consarn."

  "Well, don't be hurt, Hunky Ben, I don't for one moment question yourcourage, only I fancied that if you saw any one rescuing an outlaw youwould have tried to put a bullet into him whether he happened to be aman or a ghost."

  "But I have told you," broke in Buck Tom with something of his old fire,"that Leather is _not_ an outlaw."

  "I have only _your_ word for that, and you know what that is worth,"returned the captain. "I don't want to be hard on one apparently sonear his end, and to say truth, I'm inclined to believe you, but we knowthat this man Leather has been for a long time in your company--whethera member of your band or not must be settled before another tribunal.If caught, he stands a good chance of being hanged. And now," added thecaptain, turning to a sergeant who had entered the cave with him, "tellthe men to put up their horses as best they may. We camp here for thenight. We can do nothing while it is dark, but with the first gleam ofday we will make a thorough search of the neighbourhood."

  While the troopers and their commander were busy making themselves ascomfortable as possible in and around the cave, the scout went quietlyup to the clump of wood where Leather was in hiding, and related to thatunfortunate all that had taken place since he left him.

  "It is very good of you, Hunky, to take so much interest in me, andincur so much risk and trouble; but do you know," said Leather, with alook of surprise, not unmingled with amusement, "you are a puzzle to me,for I can't understand how you could tell Captain Wilmot such a heap o'lies--you that has got the name of bein' the truest-hearted scout on thefrontier!"

  "You puzzle me more than I puzzle you, Leather," returned the scout witha simple look. "What lies have I told?"

  "Why, all you said about what you saw and heard when you said you wereeavesdroppin' must have been nonsense, you know, for how could you hearand see what took place in the cave through tons of rock and earth?"

  "How I saw and heard, my son Leather, is a private affair of my own, butit was no lie."

  Leather looked incredulous.

  "Then you said," he continued, "that you didn't see the man that carriedme away."

  "No more I did, boy. I _never_ saw him!"

  "What! not even in a looking-glass?"

  "Not even in a lookin'-glass," returned Hunky. "I've seed his_reflection_ there many a time,--an' a pretty good-lookin' reflection itwas--but I've never see'd himself--that I knows on! No, Leather, ifCaptain Wilmot had axed me if I saw _you_ carried off, I might ha' beenputt in a fix, but he didn't ax me that. He axed if I'd seen the manthat carried you off an' I told the truth when I said I had _not_.Moreover I wasn't bound to show him that he wasn't fit to be a lawyer--specially when he was arter an innocent man, an' might p'r'aps hang himwithout a trial. It was my duty to guide the captain in pursuit ofoutlaws, an' it is my duty to shield an innocent man. Between the twoperplexin' duties I tried to steer as straight a course as I could, butI confess I had to steer pretty close to the wind."

  "Well, Hunky, it is my duty to thank you instead of criticising you as Ihave done, but how do you come to be so sure that I'm innocent?"

  "P'r'aps because ye putt such an innocent question," replied Ben, with alittle smile. "D'ye raily think, Leather, that an old scout like me isgoin' to let you see through all the outs and ins by which I comes at mylarnin'! It's enough for you to know, boy, that I know a good deal moreabout you than ye think--more p'r'aps than ye know about yerself. Idon't go for to say that you're a born angel, wantin' nothin' but a pairo' wings to carry ye off to the better land--by no means, but I do knowthat as regards jinin' Buck Tom's boys, or takin' a willin' part intheir devilish work, ye are innocent an' that's enough for me."

  "I'm glad you know it and
believe it, Ben," said Leather, earnestly,"for it is true. I followed Buck, because he's an old, old chum, and Idid it at the risk of my life, an' then, as perhaps you are aware, wewere chased and I got injured. So far I am innocent of acting withthese men, but, O Ben, I don't admit my innocence in anything else! Mywhole life--well, well--it's of no use talkin'. Tell me, d'ye thinkthere's any chance o' Buck getting over this?"

  "He may. Nobody can tell. I'll do my best for him. I never lose hopeof a man, after what I've see'd in my experience, till the breath isfairly out of him."

  "Thank God for these words, Ben."

  "Yes," continued the scout, "and your friend Brooke is at this momentsunk in the blue dumps because you have been carried off by a greatmysterious monster!"

  "Then he doesn't know it was you?" exclaimed Leather.

  "In course not. An' he doesn't know you are within five hundred yardsof him. An' what's more, you mustn't let him know it was me, for thatmust be kept a dead secret, else it'll ruin my character on thefrontiers. We must surround it wi' mystery, my boy, till all is safe.But I didn't come up here to enjoy an evenin's conversation. You're notsafe where you are, Leather. They'll be scourin' all round for you longbefore sun-up, so I must putt you where you'll be able to look on an'grin at them."

  "Where will that be?" asked Leather, with some curiosity.

  "You know the cliff about five hundred feet high that rises just over onthe other side o' the valley--where the water-shoot comes down?"

  "Ay, it's likely I do, for I've seen it every mornin' for months past."

  "An' you remember the hole near the top o' the cliff?"

  "Yes--that looks about the size of a crow?"

  "Whatever it looks like it's three times the size of a man, an' it's themouth of a cave," returned the scout. "Now, I'll lead you to the trackthat'll let you up to that cave. It's a splendid place, full of allsorts o' holes an' places where a man couldn't find you even if heknow'd you was there. Once up, you may sit down, smoke your pipe in themouth o' the cave, an' enjoy yourself lookin' on at the hunt arteryourself. Here's a bit o' chuck I've brought to keep you from wearyin',for they may keep it up all day. When all danger is past I'll come upfor ye. You needn't show more o' yourself, however, than the top o'your head. A man can never be over-cautious when he's bein' hunteddown. An' mind, don't leave the place till I come for you."

  Handing a cold roast fowl and a loaf to his companion, the scout got upand led him away to the spot which he had just described. It was bythat time quite dark, but as Hunky Ben knew every inch of the ground heglided along almost as quickly as if it had been broad day, followed,with some difficulty, by poor Leather, who was still in a state of greatprostration, partly because of his injury and partly in consequence ofhis previous dissipation. As the place, however, was not much more thanhalf-a-mile distant his powers of endurance were not much tried. Thescout led him across the narrow valley just above the outlaws' cave, andthen, entering a steep rocky defile, he began to ascend a place that wasmore suitable for goats than men. After half-an-hour of upward toilthey reached a plateau where the track--if it may be so styled--seemedto run in a zig-zag manner until it reached a small hole in the solidrock. Through this they entered and found themselves within a cavernand in total darkness.

  "We may rest a bit now," said the scout. "There's a ledge hereabouts.There you are. Sit down. I'll have to take your hand here lest youfall off the bridge into the holes on each side o' the track."

  "Are the holes dangerous?" asked Leather.

  "They're dangerous enough to be worth takin' care of, anyhow, for if yewas to tumble into one you'd never come out again. There, now, let's goon, for if I don't git back soon, they'll be wonderin' if the monsterhasn't run away wi' me too, as well as you!"

  After advancing a short distance in total darkness--Ben feeling his waycarefully step by step--they came suddenly to the hole in the front ofthe cave to which reference has been already made. The place hadevidently been used before as a place of refuge and temporary abode,for, near this front-mouth of the cave was found a litter of pinebranches which had plainly been used as a bed.

  "Sit ye down there, Leather," said the scout, "see, or, rather, hear--for the eyes aren't of much use just now--I've set down the grub an' aflask o' water beside ye. Don't strike a light unless you want to haveyour neck stretched. Daylight won't be long o' lettin' ye see what'sgoin' on. You won't weary, for it'll be as good as a play, yourselfbein' chief actor an' audience all at the same time!"

  Saying this the scout melted, as it were, into the darkness of thecavern, and, with noiseless moccasined feet, retraced his steps to therear entrance.

  Left to himself the poor wanderer found both time and food forreflection, for he did not dare in the darkness to move from the spotwhere he had seated himself. At first an eerie feeling of indefinablefear oppressed him, but this passed away as the busy thoughts wentrambling back to home and the days of comparative innocence gone by.Forgetting the dark surroundings and the threatening dangers, he wasplaying again on the river banks, drinking liquorice-water, swimming,and rescuing kittens with Charlie Brooke. Anon, he was wandering on thesea-beach with his sister, brown-eyed Mary, or watching the manly formof his old friend and chum buffeting the waves towards the wreck on theSealford Rocks. Memory may not be always faithful, but she is oftensurprisingly prompt. In the twinkling of an eye Shank Leather hadcrossed the Atlantic again and was once more in the drinking andgambling saloons--the "Hells" of New York--with his profoundly admired"friend" and tempter Ralph Ritson. It was a wild whirl and plunge frombad to worse through which Memory led him now--scenes at which heshuddered and on which he would fain have closed his eyes if possible,but Memory knows not the meaning of mercy. She tore open his eyes and,becoming unusually strict at this point, bade him look particularly atall the minute details of his reckless life--especially at the wrecks ofother lives that had been caused by the wreck of his own. Then thedeepest deep of all seemed to be reached when he rose--or rather fell--from the condition of tempted to that of tempter, and, somehow, managedfor a time to lead even the far stronger-minded Ralph Ritson on the roadto ruin. But he did not lead him long. The stronger nature soonre-asserted itself; seized the reins; led the yielding Leather to thecities of the far west; from gambling took to robbing, till at last thegay and handsome Ritson became transformed into the notorious Buck Tom,and left his weaker chum to care for himself.

  It was at this point--so Memory recalled to him--that he, Leather, wasstopped, in mid and mad, career, by a man of God with the love of Jesusin his heart and on his lips. And at this point Memory seemed to changeher action and proved herself, although unmerciful, pre-eminentlyfaithful. She reminded him of the deep contrition that God wrought inhis heart; of the horror that overwhelmed him when he thought of what hewas, and what he had done; of the sudden resolve he had formed to followRitson, and try to stop him in the fearful career on which he hadentered. Then came the memory of failure; of desperate anxieties; offutile entreaties; of unaccountably resolute perseverance; of joiningthe outlaw band to be near his friend; of being laughed to scorn by themall of being chased by US troops at the very commencement of hisenterprise; of being severely wounded, rescued, and carried off duringthe flight by Buck Tom, and then--a long blank, mingled with awfuldreams and scenes, and ribald songs, and curses--some of all which wasreal, and some the working of a fevered brain.

  So terribly vivid were these pictures of memory, that one of the shoutsof dreamland absolutely awoke him to the fact that he had extended hiswearied limbs on his couch of pine brush and fallen asleep. He alsoawake to the perception that it was broad daylight, and that a realshout had mingled with that of dreamland, for after he had sat up andlistened intently for a few moments, the shout was repeated as if at nogreat distance.