The Red River Half-Breed: A Tale of the Wild North-West

  CHAPTER XXIII.

  A FOREST LETTER.

  Leaving the amiable Captain Kidd for the time being, but promising notto be slow in returning to him, we hasten to Old Nick's Jump, where weleft a character as important and far more agreeable.

  After having carried out their project in favour of the white womenand their captors, the hunters deemed it wise to remain sheltered inthe cavern. It was not from any likelihood of the Crow Indians makingreprisals; it was clear enough that they had not recognized them, andhad not lately been trying to trace them. The reason of their "layinglow," _i.e._, lying perdu, was more powerful; Jim Ridge had to wait forintelligence before he would strike out.

  The only persons excepted from this embargo were Filditch and CherokeeBill, thanks to which exception Lottery Paul received the drubbing thatgave him "funny bones all over."

  These two were outliers to the rest, beating the bushes beyond theJump-off incessantly.

  In their exploration, they found out that they had not helped honestemigrants but the Half-breeds, and that the women were more likely tobe their captives than their wives and children. They had been carriedalmost too far in their love for humankind, and the border law thatcolour must defend its own colour.

  It is only fair to the Yager to admit that, even on learning that hehad defended mongrels he was not sorry. He did not trouble himself anyfarther about them, but still thought of their prisoners.

  Such was the state of things four days after the Crows had beenbeaten off. Some forty trappers, hunters, and the Scotch Canadianswere actively cleaning up their firearms, and packing several days'provisions, all in anticipation of an expedition.

  It was about midday, and the remains of deer meat and broken biscuitdenoted that dinner had not long been finished.

  "How are you getting on, boys?" demanded Jim, who had been busied inthe same way as the others.

  "First-rate, all ready!" replied one for the troop.

  "That's the prime article! Now then, put out your feet! We must campdown tonight, a goodish stretch from here."

  "You mean business?" inquired a Scot.

  "Decided busy business," was the reply; "come this nightfall, we shallknow jest whar we are located."

  "But Bill and the Californian left us, as usual, at sunrise; whar'bouts do we gather 'em in?"

  "Don't you flurry," said Jim, "they have run on ahead, not to frolic,but to clear the trail and select a camping ground."

  "Nothing to keep us here, eh?"

  "Not a thing."

  "Then we're off!" cried the party, all afoot, and everything buckled on.

  "Come on!"

  The whole band quitted the retreat by the subterranean way alreadydescribed.

  It was a cold but fine morning, the air pure, the sky blue. The sunhad pretty well thawed the snow, and as a grizzled old trapper said:"Just _the_ weather for a feller to go ten miles a-sparking his gal."The party moved in Indian or single file at a good, regular pace, whichtook them briskly away from the starting point. As the horses wereuseless, they were left behind under guard.

  The course brought the long string of men past the Red River company,and Ridge remarked with some surprise that they who had been so longquiet now showed signs of pulling up stakes and departing. It was tocoalesce with Kidd. This set Ridge thinking, and even made him uneasy.Still, he let no evidence of this appear, but went on in meditation.He was not the man to neglect any precaution, or learning what thismovement portended. Whilst walking on he was fingering several pebbleswhich he had merely mechanically picked up, as an observer would havethought.

  On coming to a place where their route made an elbow, he stopped,without saying anything to his followers, whom he let pass in review.When the last had utterly gone from sight, and he was sure no one elsehad an eye on him, he picked out three trees, which naturally formeda very regular triangle. Into each of these three he climbed to thecrotch, where he scratched a ledge in the mossy bark, very like whata bird would make hunting for grubs. He kept the moss and grated woodcarefully, and laid the stone in the little shelf, where it restedalmost invisible, unless to an experienced eye, and that, too, lookingfor it. After having executed this operation on all three trees, wesay, the Yellowstone Yager made a heap of all the moss and _debris_at the foot of the one which was apex to the trio. Leading up to thiscone, scattered over with leaves, he placed lines of stones, to saynothing of other arrangements of pebbles which, though to all seemingin disorder, undoubtedly conveyed a meaning, for he went over them,and, like a printer correcting his types, modified them scrupulously.

  Having once more scrutinised the neighbourhood, to be certain he had nospy on him, he took up his rifle and strode off, merrily whistling tohimself, to overtake his comrades, who had not slackened their gait forhim.

  As remarked, Bill the Cherokee and Filditch had gone out scouting atdaybreak. Ridge had given them particular instructions, and perhaps wasthinking of them when he accomplished the enigmatical work described.It was presumably a signal message. The Yager was much too serious aman to lose his time in jokes. When he rejoined his men he said nevera word on his doings, and no one questioned him; they do not question"the old man" of a party when out on the warpath with a variety ofdeaths at hand.

  All the afternoon they marched on without anything notable happeningexcept that a couple of bucks were killed, but shot with arrows, sothat no noise was made.

  About five p.m., a little after sunset, the band arrived where the haltfor the night was decided.

  It was on the edge of a rather wide clearing, as generally is the case,to prevent a surprise and attack under cover. Awaiting them, seatednear a fire only just kindled, Filditch was puffing at a cigar.

  The Cherokee Half-breed was not visible.

  Old Jim put no questions concerning him, and did not even seemastonished at not seeing him.

  A camp is not long being made by regular hunters. The two or threefires soon burnt up in that clear, smokeless, intensely hot way whichis the despair of novices at camping. The supper being "put under thebelts," everyone not on watch wrapped up in blankets, and went to sleepwith feet to the fire.

  At eleven o'clock Jim Ridge rose out of a reverie, went the rounds ofthe sentries, and finally dived into the underbrush, dropping at onceso as to disappear promptly. As soon as he was well out of reach of thelow firelight rays, he looked up at the sky and mountain tops to gethis bearings, and then strode away, with wide opening of his long legslike one who knew thoroughly what he was about, and how the country wassuperficially formed.

  His course was only an hour long.

  Then he stopped at a rock overhanging a waterfall.

  He felt that his weapons were in good condition before putting in eachside of his mouth one index finger, with which he so changed the shapeof that orifice that he was able to imitate to perfection the hootingof the big blue owl. That was a night bird likely to be about at thattime.

  Almost immediately a swish as of wings in the brambles responded. Itwas as if a bird had been deluded and rushed to see a mate. But noowl--merely a man emerged from the shadows scarcely twenty paces fromthe old mountaineer. The man came on with extraordinary confidence,keeping his gun only tolerably ready, and smoking a pipe with its coveroff.

  "Oh, these young fellows!" muttered the Yager, with a low laugh; "Theywon't learn nuthin', and it's no use talking to 'em, and, at the sametime, this is a most promising one among 'em."