CHAPTER XXIX.
ON THE EVE OF THE ATTACK.
Cherokee Bill was ill at ease as regards the newcomers, and, whilstother scouts left the main body to discover what was the forceapproaching from the north, he took the almost opposite direction. Butwhen a scout goes out thus "on his own hook," he makes sure of his wayback being clear. A scout must return with news, that is his rulingmotto. Besides, the Half-breed on the scouting path was very prudent.His line led him across a trail to Old Nick's Cutoff, and there hescrutinised the ground.
In a few minutes he frowned and stooped lower. He had perceived,scarcely more than discernible though, the mark of a human foot,invisible for other eyes. He gave some seconds' concentratedexamination to it, for it was not an Indian's tread, nor a white man'sin soft heelless shoes, but that of the wearer of pegged boots, suchas are common on the border. They are too heavy and require too muchreparation in dry weather to suit the hunters; they adopt the redskins'lighter and pleasanter footgear, as do the Canadian Half-breeds.
There was no doubt that one of Captain Kidd's crew had been here, andrecently. Whence he came last and whither he was going now were thequestions. That this was a spy of the gold grabbers was clear to Bill.Still, confirmation was far from easy. Except over a few square feetwhere a shallow rock basin had preserved moist soil, there was nothingbut hard stone and dry rocks. The Cherokee chief was not disheartenedfor all that, being rather too experienced in desert tricks.
This solitary footprint was on the skirt of the woodland, the toepointing thither.
"He's altogether too blamed cunning," muttered he, with an inwardchuckle. "This might scoop in a white man, but not even half an Injin."
He dropped to the ground, and lying thereon like a geographer intentlyinvestigating a crabbedly written map, explored every inch of the soil.After a long while he caught sight, a couple of yards distant fromthe footmark--in the same direction--of a long thin scratch, madeevidently by an iron instrument which had lightly slid along. Thatbrought forth a smile, and he went back whence he came.
A huge old cedar rose at the wood border, and flung out protectiveboughs, so that one waved majestically above the lone footstep. Helooked up at it without seeing anything out of the common. He shook hishead and fell a-thinking. Then, going all around the tree, he pickedout the best side for climbing, where weather had made it rugged, andwas at the first branch in two or three minutes. There he stopped tohave a look around. His lips curled in silent satisfaction. He crawledalong the bough like a panther going to drop on a fawn, and reached aplace where a cord had chafed half a ring on the round.
He could go down again--the mystery was solved.
One or more men had gone through the woods, monkey fashion, in thetrees, and when at the edge had wound a rope, probably a lasso, to thebough by which to lower themselves to the ground, taking heed to landwith their toes towards the course they had followed. Once afoot, theyhad used an ironshod staff to execute a giant's stride off the dampplace under the sheltering tree upon the hard, dry stone. Hence themetallic line noticed by the hunter.
What they were and what their number little worried him. The main pointwas that he could find them readily. They might conceal themselvestemporarily amongst the chaos of boulders, but escape was out of thequestion! Beyond was an immensely deep abyss, of which the adventurerswere doubtless ignorant. They had entered into a no thoroughfare.
After overhauling his rifle, the hunter crept and glided among thelarge stones, looking in all directions, and stopping now and anon tolisten avidly. He came to a spot where the whole of the rocky sea wascomprehended in one view. A strange sight was offered him, which filledhim with a kind of admiring surprise.
Two men had managed to throw a lasso over a jutting crag right over alarge fissure serving as window to the Grotto. One had wound the ropeabout his middle, and with perfectly alarming boldness, was danglingover the fathomless abyss of the Cutoff with the hope to pry into thecavity.
At the nick when Bill Williams caught sight of this, the suspended manwas about climbing up, and with the help of his comrade, was hasteningto land on a ledge.
The Raven of the Cherokees allowed him to just get a footing, andwhilst he was uncoiling the cord from his waist, Bill aimed at thesecond man and let the lead fly. It took him fair in the bosom, so thathe leaped up in the air tremendously, and fell over into the gulf withan almost endless but more and more faint scream of agony.
Bringing another cartridge into readiness for an immediate shot, theHalf-breed strode steadily towards the second bandit, who trembled allover in the greatest dread at his approach.
"My poor brother is shaky with too much weariness," remarked he, whennearer. "It must be as near hard work as ever you tried to hang by thegirdle on a rope--and highly risky, too, for the string might snap, andthere's no telling how deep you might drop."
The man stared at him as though not understanding the bitter jest. Itwas Bill who laughed.
"After such a job, you ought to have a rest," he went on. "Don't youfret--you'll have plenty of rest before I get through with you."
Whilst uttering this promise he had disarmed the prisoner of theweapons which he tossed over the precipice; then he used the lassoto bind the man, who could not think of resistance on that perilousshelf, all with a skill and dexterity that a European hangman mightenvy. As soon as he was pinioned so that to shudder was almost animpossibility, Bill gagged him so that his breathing was confined tothe nostrils, Indian mode, and shouldering him like a bale of furs, hecarried him to a cleft in the stone whence he could see nothing, anddropped him down within.
"It's nigh as close a fit as a grave," said he ominously. "But thecoyotes won't touch you, never fear! And nobody else will. I'd adviseyour putting in some sleep whilst awaiting my coming back; it willprepare you for the long sleep you are fated to enjoy."
He left the wretch. He let a glance trace the circuit of the landscape,and, carrying his valuable gun under his left arm in the savage'sfashion, he returned to discover the trail of the horsemen from thesoutheast. He seemed to be fully pleased with the late incident.
"All the news those scouts bring to old Captain Kidd will not spoilhis slumber," he remarked, chewing some checkerberry leaves as if tocounteract the nauseating flavour of the gold hunter's name.
Having settled his object, he marched forward in the Indian style, asthe crow flies, all the more recommendable, as path there was none.This plan has the advantage of considerably abridging the road; butin a broken mountainous land most people would rather be excused. Itrequires steel muscles and uncommon vigour, and the craft to employthem properly; no fear of giddiness--the gifts of the mountain sheep,in short.
Without appearing to give a second thought to the narrow squeaks hehad, turning angles in midair merely to reach cornices goats would haveevaded, the Cherokee went steadfastly on and on, though each freshhindrance seemed less surmountable than the easiest before. On thewhole he moved rapidly, so that in three half hours he had gone whatmust have taken anybody else three or, maybe, four full ones.
About eleven, he bounded down on a broadish clearing, where anextremely transparent rivulet ran shallowly, with a melodious murmur,over pebbles where Californian diamonds and agates glowed in allcolours, between banks edged with lilies and other aquatic plants.
His piercing eye explored the scene till he was satisfied with theprofound stillness. He collected dead wood in a pile a little off fromthe streamlet, and lit a fire. When it had taken good hold, he dug upsome edible roots, which he had found by the leaves as well as if theywere labelled, and put them in the ashes to roast. On a large bed ofhot coals he laid some strips of deer meat, and lighting his pipe, satdown for a quiet smoke--his gun ever handy, however.
During twenty minutes he only shifted to turn the meat with the pointof his knife; both meat and the substitute for potatoes were soonnicely cooked. But even after he dished the peeled tubers upon a leafand the meat on a strip of bark, with its satin lining equalled by noDresden chi
na platter, he seemed to wait for the cue to eat.
Indeed, there was a faint rustle in the covert which he must haveheard, for he smiled and turned his face fully that way. A hunter creptout of the brush, his gun barrel directed forward and his finger on thetrigger.
"Friend!" said Cherokee Bill, without further emotion.
"Well, I am knocked endwise!--The chief!" exclaimed the stranger, inamazement. It was no other than Mr. Filditch.
"Just in time," said Bill Williams, waving his hands hospitably in akind of welcoming grace over the edibles, "though you are not preciselythe man or men I expected."
"Well, I hope he is not dying of hunger, as I am," answered the YankeeCalifornian, dropping down joyfully in front of his friend. "We havebeen pushing on with such forced marches that we don't know whateating, sitting still, means!"
"We!" ejaculated the hunter, with what was great astonishment for him.
"What we? When we parted company you were about the lonesomest man inthe woods, I should allow."
"Lonesome and lost, chief! Well, I wandered about alone, but I cameback a hundred strong!"
"With these horse from the south'ard? I was expecting them."
"Perhaps Don Gregorio telegraphed to you overnight that he was aboutdue?" cried Filditch, jestingly, as well as a mouth full of food wouldpermit.
"Don Gregorio? That's all right, then! They are friends, for sure.That's a weight off my mind!"
"They were glad to have me as guide. They might have had a better. Butyou can take my office now. I resign with the utmost pleasure. But howhas my uncle and the rest been getting on?"
"They are beautifully posted, as you will see."
From the tone, Filditch did not press; he knew that Bill was notcommunicative unless he pleased.
"What makes you prowl about alone?" inquired the hunter in a littlewhile.
"I thought I recognised a landmark, and wanted to verify it. The troopis only a little beyond."
"Well, this is a good spot for the camp; but Jim and the boys are clean'way up by the Yellowstone, where we must scoot in hot haste as soon asyour band is recruited. Go, fetch 'em up smart!"
Filditch had "gobbled" his share of the unexpected repast. He feltever so much better physically from that, and morally because he wasassisted out of his dilemma as an inexperienced pilot by the profferedguidance of the Cherokee. He darted away in a delighted spirit.
In the meantime, Bill finished his pipe, muttered some remark on theMexicans wanting to pick their way for the horses' sakes, and leisurelygathered fuel, of which he made a number of fires.
There was great glee among the four or five score Mexicans who rodeinto the break in the wooded and rocky land at this brilliant tokenof welcome. In another moment, old Gregorio Peralta, alighting with abriskness hardly anticipated from his silver beard, shook hands withBill Williams cordially. Several of these Southerners knew Bill bysight, and nearly all by hearsay. It was Hail-fellow, well met! And thecamp seemed in a festival.
Don Gregorio had been partly dispossessed of his prejudice againstall whose blood was intermixed, by Mr. Filditch's glowing account ofBill Williams' excellences. He at once cast prejudices aloof, and feltgenuine sympathy and admiration as he understood him better. He hadpictured all reds to be savages fond of rapine and strong drink, withno clear notion on good and evil; essentially devoted to a brutishlife, and only human in externals. In brief, ferocious bipeds incapableof generous sentiments.
The sight of the Cherokee, more than ever an Indian since he was on thewarpath, so calm, fond of his comrades, handsome of his kind, able,loyal, and wise, his natural gifts added to, not enhanced, by hiscollege training--these aspects made him believe that the Raven was anexception to all the race hitherto seen by him. As time passed over themeals, Don Gregorio learnt that the new guide was very human, with thesame passions, virtues, and vices as others of the great human family.
The rest being over, the column formed anew, directed by themixed-blood hunter, who "handled" them like a ship at sea with thedeepwater pilot at the helm. The night made no difference to him,and he pressed them on. After two halts, he brought them to a pointwhence all was plain riding. It was desirable, perhaps, that thisreinforcement should be kept a secret, from the gold grabbers inparticular. Such a body of cavalry was invaluable for a final charge,or to pursue the fugitives after a defeat.
Don Gregorio impatiently expressed the wish to ride over towards theElk's Leap, and confer with Jim Ridge.
"I do not catch what the guide says," remarked he, interrogatively.
"Oh, he says that white folks are very knowing theoretically, butlamentably fail in practice. I quite coincide."
"As how?"
"Well, we are not so near the camp of the Mountain Men and the unitedIndians as you fancy. The air is very different here from that of thesouthern plains. In the highlands the large masses absorb the lesserand merge all asperities into smoothness. You are three days off fromthe Yellowstone Basin, however fast your horses might scramble along."Thus the Cherokee.
"Well?"
"You must wait till Jim comes or otherwise meets you and assigns yourplace for the combat. Meanwhile, Don Gregorio, as you are eager to seeyour grandniece Rosario, take a couple of men, an extra mule, and lendme a horse. We will ride to where she is ensconced."
"What! You are never going to take her out of a place of shelter andbring her into the fighting place," cried the old Californian, whilstFilditch echoed the exclamation.
"Not so. I want the pack animal to bring my prisoner along to show Jim."
"A prisoner?"
"You shall see," answered Bill, curtly, turning away to select ahorse among the several offered him; whilst Filditch, who, of course,went with them to see his daughter, despatched a messenger to Ridge'scommand with the gladsome news.