CHAPTER XII
HARD LUCK
"Talk to me about your dreamers!" muttered Jerry, shrugging hisshoulders.
"But I tell you it was so!" asserted Bluff, firing up.
"The boy is right," said Mr. Mabie, as he stepped forward and fastenedhis eyes upon the ground.
Frank saw immediately what the stockman had in mind. These thingsmentioned by Bluff could never have happened without leaving sometangible traces behind. Where a big elk had been slain there must besigns of the blood that had flowed.
"Look here, and see for yourself, Jerry." And Mr. Mabie pointed to theground at his feet.
"There's some marks of hoofs around, I admit, and they seem to circleabout the tree, just as Bluff says; and--yes, that's blood on theground, as sure as you live! I guess I'm on the wrong track. He didhave a merry circus. He did shoot an elk, but where has the bloomingthing gone?" exclaimed the scoffer.
"That's just what I'm going to find out through Reddy, here. He has somelocal reputation as a tracker. Put your nose down to it, and let us knowwhat happened, Reddy."
In accordance with the request of the ranchman, the cowboy threw himselfupon his hands and knees.
"Indians!" he announced, before they had taken half a dozen breaths.
"What?" cried Bluff, staring hard.
"Cree Indians been here. I can see the print of their moccasins plain asday; and here's where they dragged the elk along, heading toward theriver!"
Reddy seemed to have not the slightest trouble in reading the signs, andyet to the boys there was not the faintest vestige of marks. Presently,however, Frank was able to make out the print of a foot in the soil, andhe noted that the one who made it wore no heels. His footwear must bemoccasins.
"H'm!" remarked Mr. Mabie. "Just what I suspected. The thieving Creeshave robbed our young friend of his prize. Too bad! But there are moreelk around, Bluff, and I hope you'll have other chances."
"But that one chased me so hard I wanted revenge. I calculated on eatinga bit of his flank for my dinner. What's the matter with our followingup the scamps, and making them give up some of my game, anyhow?"demanded the disappointed hunter.
"Impossible just now. The river is close by, and they undoubtedly hadboats in which they fled, carrying off your elk. By this time they'veshot the rapids, and must be miles below. Possibly we may run across therascals later, when we also go down the river," replied Mr. Mabie.
Reddy had gone off, his head bent low, and they understood that he wasfollowing the trail, much as a hound would have done, with this onedifference, that whereas a dog pursues by scent alone, the cowboy had todepend on his eyes.
"But if game is so plentiful, why should these Crees want to steal myelk?" pursued Bluff, who could not be easily satisfied.
"That bothers me to answer. Perhaps they happened to be out ofammunition. There are several other explanations, but in my opinion themost probable is the natural meanness of certain dusky bucks; just asyour able tramp refuses to do a lick of work, while he'll walk twentymiles for nothing," smiled the other.
"There comes Reddy back. Perhaps he knows more about it now," saidFrank, who was decidedly interested in the enigma.
They waited until the cowboy joined the circle about the tree.
"Boats, Reddy?" asked Mr. Mabie.
"Three. Must have carried around the falls without our knowing it. Hungabout here, waiting to steal something from our camp. Had a snare setfor jack-rabbits. Saw some torn skins in the camp," was what the cowboyreplied, in his jerky way.
"Oh! Then I guess they must have been here before we came, and all yousay makes me believe I was right. They have no arms, or else theirpowder and shot have run out; and for some reason they are afraid tomeet whites. Well, the elk's gone, and we can't mend that. Let's returnto camp. You have the tail to show for your little adventure, my lad."
"Yes, sir; and the memory of it all, which will haunt me for a good longtime," said Bluff, with a shake of his head, as he contemplated thehistoric tree around which he had done a little Marathon.
"But I mean to get a picture of this tree, anyhow, just to remind Bluffhow valuable a good pair of sprinting legs may be sometimes," laughedWill.
And he did, with Bluff standing alongside; for once the officialphotographer demanded a pose, he was bound to get it, or throw up hisjob, for such was the law of the Rod, Gun and Camera Club.
Then they retraced their steps to the camp, Frank more than usuallythoughtful, for anything in the shape of a mystery always set him topuzzling, and he more than once wondered whether they would ever learnjust why those Crees stole the elk Bluff had downed after so muchtrouble.
"How many did there seem to be?" he asked Reddy, a little later.
"You mean of the thieving reds? I counted nine in all, four bucks, twosquaws and three pappooses," replied the other.
"But if I understand rightly, these Indians never take their familieswhen they go on the war-path. Is that so, Reddy?" Frank asked quickly.
"Say, get that notion out of your head right away. They ain't no Creeslookin' for trouble these days. My idea is just this: This is a familytravelin' acrost country, for some reason or other. P'raps they gotkicked out of their pesky old village. I've knowed such things tohappen. Then they run short of meat, and didn't have guns or powder.Under such conditions any redman would steal."
"Well, who could blame them, with women and children to feed? I guessyou hit the nail on the head that time, Reddy. Glad to think that way,too. We can spare the elk, and it will spur Bluff on to other huntingdeeds. He's had a taste now, and the fever will work on him."
Meanwhile, Jerry had started his fishing below the cataract. There wereplaces just at the end of the foam-splashed outlet of the big pool wherethey had seen noble trout jumping, and it was here he dropped his flies.
After trying them a short time, and ascertaining that the trout paidlittle attention to the feathery lure, practical Jerry actuallydescended to the plebian angleworm, though he blushed when Frank cameover to watch him.
"Got to have some for supper, you know," he remarked. "Now, if I wasonly doing this thing for the sport, nothing could tempt me to use livebait. I'm at it in the strict commercial sense this time."
"I understand; and Jerry, let me tell you, the sportsman who, whentrout-hungry, refuses to go back to first principles, and use grubs andworms after the fish refuse the fly, is to be pitied, that's all,"laughed Frank.
"Hey! That's a dandy, all right! See him jump, will you? Wow! He's allof two pounds, and as strong as an ox! I hope the leader holds. It'sbeen frayed some by rubbing over rocks in the past. Please pick up thatlanding-net and attend to the beauty, if I can coax him close enough,Frank."
Frank landed not only that beauty, but several more, ere he wandered offto do something else. Jerry kept on fishing until he could not getanother bite, by which time he had quite a nice string of the speckledbeauties.
"Perhaps enough for a decent meal; though if Bluff develops his usualappetite, the rest of us would go hungry. I wonder if a fellow mightn'thave some luck up above the falls? Guess I'll make a shift to try," hesaid to himself.
The last view he had of the camp showed him Reddy amusing Bluff bymaking flying tosses of his rope and lassoing all sorts of objects, fromthe hat on the head of the admiring witness, to something tossed up inthe air.
Jerry labored up the hillside until he finally came to where he couldlook down at the water as it shot over the edge. It fell with a greatdeal of noise, striking the rocks below in many places with terrificforce.
"Ugh! It would just about bang a fellow to pieces to drop over there,"he remarked, commencing to move upstream, looking for a promising placeto begin his fishing operations.
Presently he discovered a log that jutted out over the swift current.From this outlook he believed he could allow his bait to float down intoan eddy that looked as though it might be the home of a big hermittrout.
Jerry tested the log as he cautiously advanced. He realized that he w
astaking some chances in creeping out to its furthest end, but so far ashe could ascertain it seemed to be firm enough.
Straddling the log, he started to get his baited hook in motion. Thewriggling worms sank a little in the swirl. At first, he was unable tojust master the difficult problem of how to influence the bait to floatinto the eddy. Twice he failed to accomplish this, but studying therushing stream a little, he fancied that by a certain throw in the starthe could gain his end.
Sure enough, it worked, and like a charm. The baited hook was drawn backinto the foam-flecked eddy, and he saw it vanish from view. Then came amost tremendous jerk, that almost caused him to lose his balance andthe log to quiver, with sickening possibilities.
But Jerry glued his legs against the sides, just as he had been told todo with a refractory pony, and managed to recover his balance. The troutwas a gamey one, and the swiftness of the current made the task ofsecuring him doubly hard.
"I'll work, all right, for everything I hook here," panted Jerry, afterten minutes had passed, and he tossed his exhausted prize over to thebank.
But he would not give up. Where one such fine, fat fellow held out therewas certainly a chance for more, so he continued his fishing.
Unknown to him, Will had also wandered up that steep hillside, searchingfor a new view of the wonderful cataract. Pushing through the densethickets, he chanced to catch a glimpse of the lone fisherman.
"Now, that's what I call a picturesque sight! Look at the chap perchedout on the very end of that log, with the water rushing below like amill-race! Here's where I get you, my duck. Fancy to what ends afisherman will go in order to enjoy his favorite sport."
Will seemed to forget entirely that he was willing to undertake just aslong a pilgrimage and buck up against as difficult problems simply toget one snapshot that appealed to his soul.
"There! He's got another fish on! My! How it pulls! I wouldn't be out onthat log, doing such a job, for anything. But I just bet Jerry is ashappy as a clam. He sets his teeth, and holds on as if he had a whale,and perhaps it is a big un! I must get him again in that position. Why,although he don't know it, he's just giving me the best thing of theday!"
Will rapidly adjusted his camera, and looked down to see that he had theproper focus before snapping the shutter. The light was good up there,and he believed he must have the greatest success with such a picture asthat. Besides, it had the genuine article of life in it, which he alwayssought in taking his views.
Then he pressed his finger, in the belief that he was about to snatch asnapshot bound to give the four chums the keenest satisfaction in daysto come.
"Oh!"
The startled exclamation broke involuntarily from the lips of Will evenat the very second he took his picture, and he let his beloved camerafall to the ground, at the risk of doing it some material damage.
It was not this seeming mishap that had brought the startled cry fromhis lips, but the crash of sundering wood, and the sudden disappearanceof the lone fisherman below the rim of the river bank; for the log hadfinally betrayed Jerry, and dropped him into that swirling, maddeningcurrent above the high falls!