CHAPTER XVII.
HOW THE MEDICINE WORKED.
Having left their horses picketed in a secluded spot, four men camestealing down the steep and narrow fissure that was the one entranceinto the Enchanted Valley. Three days had passed since Dash Colvin stoleout of that valley in his desperate attempt to carry the message toFrank. The third night had fallen.
Frank had arrived, and with him were Pete Curry, of Cottonwood, anofficer who knew him well and liked him, and two deputies whom Curry hadcalled into service. Frank had picked these men up at Cottonwood afterhis flight from Prescott. The promise of a liberal reward under anycircumstances, and possibly of a big capture, had led them to accompanyhim. Before seeking to descend into the valley they had seen from theheights above, far away to the southern end, the glow of two or threebright fires, and had heard at intervals something like singing.
Frank feared the entrance to the valley might be in the hands of theenemy and guarded. He was relieved on discovering that this was not so,and his satisfaction was great when, with his companions, he foundhimself in the valley with no one to block the way.
"What next, Mr. Merriwell?" asked Curry, in a low tone.
"I am for finding out what is going on down there to the south," saidFrank.
"All right, sir. Lead on. We're with you."
In time they approached near enough to look down upon that portion ofthe valley where the unfinished cabins were, and saw two or three firesburning there. Men were lying around on the ground in the light of thesefires. Others were staggering about in a peculiar manner. Now and thenone of them would utter a wild yell and dance about like a crazy man,sometimes keeping it up until, apparently exhausted, he ended byflinging himself on the ground and seemed immediately to fall asleep.
As Frank and his companions watched these singular movements they sawthree men join hands and execute a singular dance in the firelight.
"Caesar's ghost!" muttered Merry, "am I dreaming?"
"What's the matter, pard?" asked Curry.
"Look at those three men--look at them closely. One of them is anIndian."
"Sure thing," said Curry.
"And I know him!" palpitated Merry. "If my eyes don't fail me, it is oldJoe Crowfoot."
"Who is old Joe Crowfoot?"
"A redskin I have believed to be my friend."
"Waugh!" ejaculated Curry, in disgust. "There never was a red whelp ascould be trusted."
"But you don't know Crowfoot."
"I know 'em all. Here is this yere Crowfoot a-whooping her up with yourenemies, Mr. Merriwell. What do you think of that?"
"It's mighty singular," confessed Merry. "Look! look! they aredrinking!"
It was true. The dance had stopped and one of the three had flunghimself on the ground. Crowfoot bent over this fellow and offered him abottle, which he eagerly seized. The Indian snatched it from the man'slips, refusing to let him drink all he seemed to desire. It was thengiven to the other men, and afterward the old redskin passed from one toanother of the reclining men, rousing those he could and offering themthe bottle. Some drank, but others seemed too nerveless to hold thebottle in their hands.
"Well, this yere is lucky for us," declared Curry. "The whole bunch isparalyzed drunk. We oughter be able to scoop 'em in without any greattrouble."
"I wonder where Hodge is," speculated Merry. "I wonder if they havekilled him."
This possibility so aroused Frank that he was determined to seek Bartwithout delay. Curry was opposed to this; but Frank had his way, andthey stole off leaving Crowfoot and his newly chosen companions tocontinue their carousal. As they approached Bart's cabin, there camefrom the window a sharp command for them to halt. Merry recognized thevoice and uttered a cry of satisfaction.
"Hodge!" he called. "It is I--Frank."
From within the cabin there was another cry of joy, and a moment laterthe door flew open and Hodge came running toward them.
"Merry, thank Heaven you're here!" he exclaimed,
"Thank Heaven you're still alive!" returned Frank. "I was afraid I mightarrive too late. Tell me what has happened. How have you managed tostand those ruffians off?"
"They attacked the cabin twice," said Hodge; "but we were ready for themboth times."
"We? But aren't you alone?"
"I am now; but old Joe Crowfoot----"
"Crowfoot--what of him?"
"He was with me. I don't know what has become of the old man now. Heleft to-night as soon as darkness fell, saying he was going to take alook at the ruffians down yonder. The old man is pretty well used up; heis nearly dead with rheumatism. He spent the greater part of the timeafter coming here in digging roots and making them into medicine bydrying them at the fire, scraping them, then grinding them into powderbetween stones, finally preparing a decoction with water and the powderof the roots."
Frank then told Bart what he had lately seen, and Hodge was greatlyastonished.
"Old Joe down there with those men?" he muttered. "Why, I don't see----"
"Ugh!" grunted a voice near at hand, and out of the shadows slippedanother shadow that unhesitatingly approached. It was Crowfoot himself,as they immediately perceived.
"How, how, Strong Heart!" said the old man, extending his hand to Frank."Heap glad to see um."
"Why, you old wretch!" cried Merry. "We saw you a short time ago downthere with that bunch of claim jumpers drinking and whooping things up.What do you mean by such conduct?"
"Old Joe him got very bad rheumatism," returned the redskin. "Him makemedicine. Him think mebbe um white men down there got bad rheumatism,too. He give um white men some medicine. He find um white man drinking aheap. Joe he mix um medicine with drink. They like medicine pretty good.One white man, who lead um, him get shot up a great lot. Him in no shapeto lead um some more. So white men they wait for more men to come. Nowthey very much tired. They sleep a lot. Come down see um sleep. You likeit."
Of a sudden the truth dawned on Frank.
"Why, you clever old rascal!" he laughed. "Hanged if I don't believeyou've drugged them some way!"
"Joe he give um medicine, that all," protested the redskin. "Sometimesmedicine make um sleep. Come see."
"Come on," said Frank, "we will follow this slick old rascal and findout how hard they are sleeping."
As they approached the cabins at the lower end of the valley they sawthe fires were dying down, while from that locality no longer cameshouts and singing, and, in truth, all the ruffians seemed fast asleepon the ground, where they had fallen or flung themselves.
Unhesitatingly Crowfoot led them amid the mass of drugged men, and thesinking firelight revealed on his leathery face a ghost of a shriveledsmile.
"Medicine heap good sometimes," he observed. "Strong Heart find himenemies sleeping. Mebbe he takes hatchet and chop um up? Joe he get manyscalps."
"You're a dandy, Crowfoot!" laughed Frank. "Here they are, Curry, thewhole bunch. You can gather them and escort them to Cottonwood, oranywhere you please."
"And a great haul it is, pard," nodded Curry. "I sees three gents nowwhat has rewards offered for them. It's my opinion that they hangs. Getto work, boys, and we will tie up the whole bunch so they can't wigglewhen they awake."
Old Joe looked on in apparent dissatisfaction and dismay.
"You no chop um up some?" he questioned. "You no kill um a heap. Thenwhat Joe him get? He no have a scalp."
"What do you get, Joe?" exclaimed Merry. "You have saved my mines forme. You get anything you want--anything but scalps."