CHAPTER VI.
IN HOSTILE HANDS.
When Ulla Maclan came to her senses she found herself in darkness, butit was not that of the grave. The snow had been falling again, and allthe night through; but the warmth of her body had hollowed out a cavearound her, in the roof of which her breath had maintained an aperture.But, cruelly enough, the same blanched mantle that preserved her fromfreezing had sheltered her from the eager eyes of the only othersurvivor of her father's party.
With a suffocated feeling, she broke open the shell, and warily emergedinto the more than ever wintry landscape. All the breakage of thesledge loads had been smoothly buried with the remains of the haplessCanadians.
Not a mark on the level snow revealed the substantiality of the formwhich she believed in her terror the spectre of the Indian Chief, butwhich we know as the secretary, so nearly discovering her, but going onhis fruitless way, brokenhearted.
The musical trickling of melting snow tantalised her palate, andshe scrambled through the soft drift to a cleft where a rivulet wasbeginning to run. The cool draught was delicious. She then set toreviving herself with a dash of it over her face, and was bindingup her hair, when a loud and coarse laugh made her start and turn,blushing.
Three white men in hunters' garb stood on a crest of the rocks sweptclear of the snow, where they travelled as well to avoid leaving tracesas to be free of step. The mountains rose behind them, a sweet faintazure, with an opal edge, which was the last night's snow.
Two of the strangers were about the same age, some five-and-thirty;harsh and angular of feature, brutal and bullying, tall and burly. Intheir half wild, half border town dress, they were not to be taken forgenuine trappers by anyone less new to this region than our heroine.They were what is called hide hunters, or skin scalpers, whose leastshameful occupation is the slaughtering buffaloes for the hide alone,or even collecting their bones to be sent East for the best ivory knifehandles.
The third and superior was more than ten years older, with piercinggrey eyes and low forehead, a dirty yellow beard and long hair; theaspect of a confirmed rogue, sly, base, and wicked. They were all armedto the teeth, and their arms were a great deal better kept than theirteeth, innocent of any attentions whatever, which did not add anyattraction to their grins at surprising the young lady at her toilet.
Somehow, she would almost have preferred to see the red men themselvesthan these representatives of her race. Nevertheless, she namedherself, related the disaster, and implored their help for Heaven'ssweet sake.
"A da'ter of one of these top-shelf hunting gentlemen," remarked theold man, laughing; "and wants help mighty sudden? She's terribly fine,boys! Narrerly 'scaped being gobbled by the _friendlies_," in sarcasm,"and _corralled_ all night by that equal-knocks-sial storm. Yes, it'dgi'n me a deal of cramp; but see what it _are_ to be young and spry!She's 'mazingly lovely!" he exclaimed again in an audible aside tohis fellows, amused at his playing the gallant. "I hain't seen nosech since I was an inch high and an hour old! It almost tempts alone hunter not to 'bach' it anymore, but go into pardnership. She's'prime fur.' Yes, Miss, you can come along o' us--you're the kind tobe welcome anywhar' without a cent! How it will shorten up the ride, a'greeable gal like you! Jerusha! We shall go back full-handed on thequeen o' hearts!"
"Are you captain of some party, sir?"
"Why, not today, Miss. We 'lect our cap'en, and I did not treat theboys well enough to head the polls. But I am chief of the scouts; yes,that's my rank. However, it's a considerable show of white men. Thecap's a gentleman, and you'll be as safe as in the Mint as soon as thecaptain sees you."
The others exchanged a merry look.
"A large party?" she repeated. "Was that your singing I heard in thenight, or was that a dream?"
"Well, no, Miss, you never heard any singing in our camp. Stop a bit,when I went on my guard thar was some singing out of Quarry Dick,because they had sneaked away his pillow, which it was a whiskeybottle--no offence, Miss! No, no singing."
"It sounded like church music--a hymn."
"Church moosic? You must 'a been on the dream, sartin sure. 'Sides,thar are Injins squandrin' round hyar, a right few, say a leetle lessthan a thousand ton, over an' above the band you mentioned. This is ahard season for the redskin, and he's come up here to warm himself atthe Firehole, I reckon. The only singer we hev is one young lady aboutyour age, and she only sings to herself in Mexican lingo."
"A young lady," repeated Ulla, somewhat reassured. "At least, I see,you are not friends of the savages."
"No; we are our own friends!" returned the old man, grinning again,"And, individooally, our friends is in our belt," slapping his pistoland his knife as he spoke.
"And will your captain help me to learn the fate of my poor father, andthe brave men he engaged--if any escaped from that horrid massacre?"
"The captain, miss, will do anything for a pretty face like yours. Ifyou'll step this way, we'll put you on a pony--there's no possibilityof your little feet gitting over this crust. It's not many miles, butthe milestones are pesky far apart in this country."
"I would prefer to walk."
"That's downright onpossible. Sol Garrod hyar's got a foot like an armycartridge box lid; but even he would mire himself to the knees."
"Sol Garrod's foot can take care of itself, and you _sit down_ withyour opinions, unless you want to appreciate the beauties of it inkicking!" growled the subject of the criticism.
"When a gentleman talks about kicking," returned the second man,hitherto content to ogle the girl in silence, "he is to know that'Niobraska Pete' is the champion kicker of the wide, wild West, andhyar's my hat in the corral--"
"Close up!" thundered the eldest of the three, so very garruloushimself, but not willing for the others to entertain the unfortunategirl with their eloquence; "You have a mouth like a set beaver trap!What's the drift of this stupid row? It's no use stringing it out, Itell 'ee! We've enough to take the back track upon. Whar' do 'ee thinkyou are? Haven't we better things to do than go popping pistols offwhen the rocks swarm with redskins who have made a raise?" and, as thepair continued to glower at each other, their hands on their weapons,he went on: "Must I knock you both down to l'arn you manners? Don'tyou see we must cage this frightened bird, and then club up some ofthe boys to see what the reds have left worth picking at the wreck ofthe sporting swell? Ginerally these green 'galoots' yield up rich, andthose red idiots leave the best goods as beyond their comprehension.Look at the gal trembling; what on airth must she think of yourbroughtens up?"
"I am trembling with cold, not with apprehension," said Miss Maclan,resolutely.
"Oh, hang her opinion; she's bright eyes, and she sees we are allrogues!" Mr. Garrod observed carelessly.
"Don't you paint us so black, Sol," returned the old man, winking; "thefact is, we only obey orders under our chief. If thar be any blameflying about, it must fall on the captain. When we hand the young ladyover to the executive, I shall wash my hands of it, as she was a-doingwhen we surprised her; and I advise you to do the same for your sweetconscience!"
"You talk like an Injin orator, Mr. Cormick," said Sol Garrod; "ifever we are put in the wrong box--ha, ha!--I shall let you conduct mydefence!"
"Come on, Miss," said Niobraska Pete; "in the meantime, them's the twowust-eddicated brutes in the band, and no average specimen idiots!"
They had three horses in hiding, and the 'capture' was lifted upon onebehind Cormick, whom she was obliged to enclasp, spite of her loathing,to save herself from falling. They rattled off at a good pace as longas the soil was bare and stony. They soon had to traverse one of thosenarrow vales between a couple of rocky "divides," which are commonlyhalved themselves by a more or less broad ribbon of water, and whichterminate in a basin, a series of steps, or a "cutoff." The riders wereabout to scramble down the ravine which yawned, in this case, to appalless venturesome cavaliers, when Cormick ordered a pulling up.
"I want to look ahead, that's all," he said; "maybe, it's a foolfeeling; bu
t we have been trotting along a leetle too smoothly forInjin country, and too much quiet I reckon suspicious."
"Some joke o'your'n, to let our coffee and corn cakes git cold!"sneered Pete.
"Say what you like; but let's have one of you scout up that hole."
"Very good, Cormick," said Garrod, tranquilly; "it's my turn. I'llbring you back the nigger's top feather!"
"With his hair, too, my boy; but caution; caution never costs too much,and it's a wise man that wakes up tomorrow morning, as the Spanish say."
"Oh, dry up, Cormick," cried Sol, impatiently reining in, afterstarting. "Do you railly think the red devils would browse so near_our_ camp?"
"Not I, my lad; only I repeat, you cannot poke the bushes with too muchprudence."
Garrod scrutinised the speaker's surly and scowling countenance witha puzzled expression; but he must have been encouraged, for he pushedhis horse onwards and down, with a snatch of a Negro dance tune hummedbetween his teeth, and a chew of tobacco.
"He's pretty much a daring chap," said Pete, with a mocking glance athis companion as they slowly proceeded.
"Ay, ay, he does not go to market to sell courage with an emptybasket," replied the chief scout, with a dubious grin; "but I preferhis showing the lead to this child."
Meanwhile Garrod had been spurred by the latter's air and tone intotaking the precautions indispensable on ground sown with hostilities.His repugnance grew as he dived into the defile, though it was amplefor cavalry to have ridden two abreast. The sides were wooded withpine, and gradually climbed to a fair height. The adventurer rode moreand more hesitatingly, looking about him on each hand, and as wellbehind as before, his rifle ready to fire. But the complete calmness ofthe untrodden wind trap mocked his fears. The gorge had many an awkwardturn; but nothing inimical appeared anywhere till the rider came clearout on the edge of a plain, across which a daring smoke advertised thesite of his camp--one that defied attack, no doubt; for the wolf knowshis bones are not worth the picking.
"What trash!" he muttered, reining in testily. "Old Cormick is in acranky fit, or sick with too much alkali water in his whisky. Deucetake me if I have seen anything to make a flying squirrel chatter! Wemight have been at camp by this, where a darned good breakfast is aboutready. Hang the old scared crow!"
Perfectly reassured, but still grumbling, Solomon--without the wisdomof his namesake--laid his rifle across his saddlebow, and slowly beganto retrace his steps. But hardly had he gone fifty strides, when hishorse's ears were trembling, and the animal pointed, like a dog, at thehead of an Indian, smeared with red clay and covered with feathers,which arose in the thicket. Instantly a rude rope of bark fibre wascast over the horseman's head, and he was pulled, half strangled, outof the saddle, and dashed on the ground in the partly thawed mud andsnow. This done, a man leaped at the horse, and secured it before itcould turn away; when, no doubt, it would have exploded the gun againstthe trees in its flight. The assailant was only a red man in looks--itwas Sir Archie Maclan's secretary. Thus far had he wandered, when heperceived from the wind trap, where he was bewildered, the chief objectof his search. One glance at the ruffians, who affected to befriendher, had enlightened him on their standing.
Mr. Ranald Dearborn was no fool, if he had not enjoyed prolongedacquaintance with this region. The love for woodcraft had enlisted himunder the rich Scotchman's banner, almost as much as his great, thoughsudden, admiration for his daughter.
For adventure, he had certainly a strong bitter taste at the outset;and what immediately ensued bid fair to be worthy that sample in peril.
Ensconced by the path, he had seized an excellent moment to overthrowMr. Garrod.