CHAPTER III
A DANGEROUS ENEMY
Broken Feather had certainly made his escape. There could be nodoubting it. With a quick glance Kiddie searched within the emptyshed; he even exercised his sense of smell, sniffing inquiringly.
"Seems he's bunked," he said, turning round to Gideon. "I'm puzzled toknow just how he managed it. The door was securely padlocked on theoutside. There's no other exit." He looked at the ground for newtracks of the Indian's moccasined feet, but saw no sign.
"That's kind o' queer," reflected Gideon. "It's a strong shed. Youhelped ter build it yourself, years ago, as a storehouse for pelts andammunition. Thar's no chimney, no winder; only the door. You may wellask how did he quit? Say"--the old man clutched Kiddie's arm inconsternation--"d'you reckon he's vamoosed on th' Arab mare?"
Kiddie shook his head decisively.
"That's not possible," he averred. "For one thing, he could hardlyhave mounted her with that bullet wound in his leg. For another thing,the mare's still safe in the stable where I locked her. I heard hersnorting as we passed, a minute ago. Here's the key, if you like to goand have a look at her."
"Then you figure he's gone away on foot?" pursued Gideon, ignoring theproffered key. "In that case he sure ain't very far off. We c'nfoller on his tracks. Don't you worry 'bout the way he escaped."
"That is just what I am worrying about," returned Kiddie. "It's aproblem that interests me a heap. He didn't go by the door, that'splumb certain. He didn't turn himself into air and escape through thecracks."
"Hold hard!" exclaimed Gideon. "I was forgettin'. The shed was strongas a prison when you an' me built it. But it ain't just the same as'fore you quitted fer Europe. Young Rube Carter got mussin' around,usin' it as a kennel fer his bear cub. Amazin' fond of animals, thatboy is; same as you was yourself at his age, Kiddie. Say, you didn'thappen ter let out a bear cub, time you shoved Broken Feather inside,did yer?"
"No," Kiddie chuckled. "There was no bear there, only the rancid stinkof one. Nearly knocked me down. Don't wonder at Broken Featherwanting to quit."
"Then I guess Rube let th' beast out early this mornin', while we wasat the gulch."
Gideon led the way beyond the corner of the shed and pointed to awell-concealed trap-door in the lower timbers.
"Thar y'are," he went on. "That's sure the way he got out. Clear asprint, ain't it?"
"Yes," Kiddie nodded, contemplating the moist ground, which the sun hadnot yet reached. "There are his footprints, covering the boy's smallerones. Rube's footmarks were already crushed by the bear's pads, and hedidn't turn back to bolt the door as the Indian did. Quite a baby cubit seems. But it will soon need a heavier chain than the one it hasnow."
"Eh? How d'you know Rube led it out by a chain an' not a rope?"
Kiddie glanced downward.
"Bear trod on it and left an impression," he indicated, as he strode tothe trap-door. "The links are thin and small, hardly strong enough tohold in a collie dog, let alone a growing young grizzly."
"Grizzly?" repeated Gideon. "But you've not seen th' critter. Mightbe a brown bear, or a cinnamon."
"Never knew any but grizzlies to breed about here," explained Kiddie,moving the loose door along its grooves. "And I presume Rube caught ithimself. Yes," he continued, "this is where the fellow got out. Whatperplexes me, however, is why Rube thought it necessary to have asecond door at all."
"Padlock was too high for him to reach," returned Gideon, "an' Rubedidn't notion t' have truck with keyholes, winter nights, when he c'dshove the cub's grub in by a trap he c'd slide open in the dark."
"Well, there's no great harm done, anyway," smiled Kiddie. "Your mareand the corral ponies are safe; none of your men are wounded. As forBroken Feather--we couldn't have kept him a prisoner, you know. Wehave no warrant for his arrest."
"Isa Blagg, the sheriff, is here, right now," Gideon told him. "Isac'd have arrested him, legal, I guess."
"Even so," resumed Kiddie, "you would soon have had another raid. TheRedskins would have been here like a shot to liberate their chief andto retaliate on you for having foiled them in One Tree Gulch."
"Sure," acknowledged the Old Man, leading the way to the stable. "An'even as matters stand, I'm figurin' as Broken Feather 'll notion terhave revenge on you fer puttin' the lasso on him. He'll try ter gitlevel with you somehow, Kiddie, sure's a steel trap. You've made himyour enemy--a dangerous enemy--an' he ain't no tenderfoot in villainy.He's cunnin' as a coyote, he's unscrup'lous, an' he's clever. Realclever, he is."
Kiddie's glance was roving over the land in search of the fugitive. Hewas not seriously concerned at the disappearance of the Indian chief;nevertheless, his pride was hurt and he did not conceal his annoyancethat his prisoner had escaped so easily.
"Yes," he responded to the Old Man's remarks. "I'd already discoveredthat he's not an ordinary lazy and small-minded Redskin. There'ssomething unusual about him which I don't quite understand. He's achief, wearing a chief's war bonnet, with heaps of feathers in it toshow the great things he has done; yet he's hardly more than a boy.He's a full-blooded Sioux, yet he has many of the ways and habits ofthe white man. When I slowed down on Laramie Plain and went back toslacken the lariat about his arms, I spoke to him in his own tongue.He answered in clean-cut English. 'Thank you, stranger,' he said,looking me full in the face as if summing me up. 'That is very muchbetter. And, since you are so considerate, perhaps you will allow meto smoke a cigarette.' Naturally I decided that he was going to dowithout that smoke. His six-shooter, whether loaded or empty, was tooclose for me to let him have his hands free to draw it."
"Not but what you'd have been in front of him with your own," wiselycommented Gid. "He's alert, he's slick; but not the same as you are,Kiddie."
"You appear to have had experience of him, Gid. Has he molested youbefore this morning?"
"Not exactly." The stable door was now open and Gideon was patting hisrestored Arab. "Not exactly. I've heard about him. He's the son ofyour old-time enemy, Eye-of-the-Moon. He's a man of tremendousambition. Thinks a heap of hisself. Notions ter become the boss warchief of the hull Sioux nation, same as Sitting Bull. Ever since hisearliest youth he's held that ambition in front of him, devotin'himself to attainin' it; aimin' at excellin' in horsemanship, inmilitary exercises, and in the knowledge of strategy. 'Fore he'dgotten outer his childhood, he'd reco'nized that the white man has manyadvantages over the red, an' he'd made up his mind t' acquire intimateknowledge of the ways of civilization, addin' a college eddication tothe trainin' of a nat'rally sly an' crafty Injun. I'm told he attendedone of the big American universities. Guess that's how he come terspeak what you calls clean-cut English. But Isa Blagg c'n tell you aheap more about Broken Feather 'n I can. Here's Isa comin' along, withAbe. They'll be glad ter see you."
While Abe and Isa were heartily welcoming the unexpected return ofKiddie, and plying him with a multitude of questions, young Rube Carterwatched them from the doorway of the bunk house.
Rube was painfully bashful of this newly-arrived stranger, whom heregarded merely as a traveller passing along the Salt Lake Trail. Yethe was curiously fascinated by the man who owned such a beautiful horseand who knew his way so unerringly about Birkenshaw's camp.
The more he watched, the more the boy was perplexed.
By all appearances the stranger was a person of very great importance;and yet there were Gideon, Mr. Blagg, and Abe Harum talking andlaughing with him familiarly, as if he were their intimate friend andthey his equals!
Presently all four of them glanced towards the doorway where the boywas standing. Abe Harum left the little group and strode forward inadvance.
"Rube," he called, "you gotter come along right now an' be interdoocedter Lord St. Olave. He's just pinin' ter know you."
"Lord Saint Olave?" repeated Rube. "Gee! that's a mouthful! A lord,is he? I was guessin' he couldn't be no real frontier scout, spite ofhis outfit. Say, what'm I
ter call him? Have I gotter say 'yourhighness,' or 'your ex'lency,' or what?"
"No, nothin' ceremonious," Abe assured him. "You drop in a 'sir' nowan' again, like; an' you takes off your hat when he puts out his hand.Come along!"
He drew the boy forward. Kiddie advanced. Rube took off his hat anddropped it.
"This is Rube," said Abe, and to the boy he added: "This is the RightHon'rable the Earl of St. Olave--better known along this yer trail asKiddie--Kiddie of Birkenshaw's--Kiddie of the Camp."
Rube drew back in astonishment.
"_Kiddie?_" he cried. "Oh, that's diff'rent; that's a whole lotdiff'rent. Why didn't yer put me wise at first? I know th' name ofKiddie. Ought to. I've heard it often 'nough. Real proud ter seeyou, sir," he added, taking Kiddie's outstretched hand.
"What d'you know 'bout him, boy?" inquired Isa Blagg.
"Heaps, sheriff," returned Rube. "Best horseman on all the Salt LakeTrail, best rifle shot, best swimmer an' trapper--best all round scoutthis side the Rocky Mountains; never told a lie, never said a bad word,never done anythin' he was ashamed of."
Kiddie laughed outright.
"Who's been feeding you up with all that silly rot, Rube?" he asked."If that's the reputation you judge me by I shall have a jolly hardtask to live up to it."
"'Tain't a whole lot wide o' the truth, for all that, Kiddie,"interposed the Boss. "But never heed it fer the present. Come rightin an' have suthin' ter eat. We're all hungry."
Kiddie walked with young Rube, with a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"No, you mustn't think I'm all that, Rube," he said. "I've made many afalse step, fallen into many a mistake I ought to have avoided. Onlythis morning, you know, I made the mistake of shoving Broken Featherinto the lean-to without looking if there was a loophole for hisescape."
"My fault as much as yours, sir," said Rube. "I oughter ha' fastenedthe trap-door."
"Well, anyhow," resumed Kiddie, "you and I are going to be goodfriends. You see, we have a good deal in common. You've spent yourboyhood in this camp, so did I mine. Your father was an Englishgentleman, so was mine. Your mother is a Pawnee Indian, so was mine."
"It's a proud day fer me, sir, your comin' back here, an' me walkin'alongside o' you," faltered Rube. "An' if you're shapin' ter stay herefor a while, I shall learn a lot. You c'n teach me heaps abouttrappin' the wild critters, an' livin' in the woods, an' scoutin';about horses, too, an' buffaloes an' Injuns."
He paused, surprised at the length of his speech.
"Yes," nodded Kiddie. "We'll go on the trail together. We'll gotrapping and fishing and shooting. You shall be my boy scout."
"But thar's one thing as I'm hankerin' to learn more'n all else, sir,"Rube went on boldly. "You was sayin' right now as my father was aEnglish gentleman. Well, 'tain't possible fer me to be that, seein' asI was born here in th' United States; but I guess thar's such a thingas a 'Merican gentleman, an' maybe you'd teach me how ter be one o'them."
Kiddie was silent for some moments as they crossed the clearing infront of the cabin. But at length he said--
"Rather a tall order, Rube, my lad. And it's not just like teachingyou to master a bucking broncho or to trap beaver. It's a longerprocess. But at least it's an experiment worth attempting, and we'lltry it together."
"That big bay pony of yours don't feel anyways at home in the stallwhere I've put him," said Rube, as they went up the veranda steps."I've given him a drink an' a feed, an' I've put his saddle an' bridlein the best bedroom, where they won't take no harm. I'm sorry t' say,sir, as thar's a scratch of a bullet on the saddle. Leather's sometorn; but I reckon mother c'n fix it up; same's she done my moccasinswhen I tore 'em in the bush, trackin' a lynx."
"The saddle is of no consequence if Regent is all right," Kiddieassured him. "Regent is the name of the bay. He's an English hunter;doesn't know anything about the work of a prairie pony."
Rube's mother had done her best to provide a good meal for the hungrymen. They lingered at the table, all listening in wonder to whatKiddie told them of England and of the cities of Europe and Asia. Hehad been for a journey round the world, and had much to tell of histravels in foreign lands. Gradually as he talked, he dropped theprecise English manner of speech and reverted to the homely phrases anddrawling intonation of the West. And so they ceased to think of him asLord St. Olave, regarding him without restraint as their familiar andunaltered Kiddie.
Towards tea time he took out his watch. Gideon Birkenshaw noticed thatit was a very ordinary one, with a gun metal case, held by a leatherthong.
"H'm!" the Old Man muttered. "I was expectin', Kiddie, as you'd bewearin' a real gold timepiece with a heavy gold chain. But thatarticle you're handlin' ain't wuth more'n my own, as I've wore fortwenty year. An' you ain't got no di'mond rings on yer fingers. Butwhat d'ye want ter look at the time for, anyhow?"
"I'm going to ride back as far as Fort Laramie," Kiddie answered. "Myoutfit will be coming along the trail in a day or two, and I'm warnedthat it would be well to get a squad of cowboys together to guard itacross the plain."
"Anythin' valu'ble as you're afraid of gettin' stole?" asked Isa Blagg."Couldn't it be brought along safe in one o' Gid's farm carts?"
Kiddie smiled.
"Not quite," he answered. "There's too much of it. There's three mulewagons full, and there's a bunch of English horses. There's newsporting rifles and beaver traps, there's trunks full of clothing andpersonal fixings, material for building and furnishing a new cabin, tosay nothing of money and other valuable property. But it's the horsesI'm anxious about, Isa. If Laramie Plain is what it used to be,there's Indians and road agents hanging around who wouldn't think twiceabout helping themselves if the outfit isn't well protected."
"Best be on the safe side, anyhow," cautioned Gideon.
"And so," continued Kiddie, "I'm going to see Nick Undrell and get himto undertake the job."
"What?" cried Isa Blagg. "Nick Undrell? Gee! The last man along thehull trail ter trust with a job like that."
"Why, what's the matter with Nick?" Kiddie asked in surprise. "He usedto be a steady, honest man, and an excellent scout--a friend ofBuckskin Jack's, and that's good enough for me."
"Ah," interposed Abe Harum. "But Nick's a altered man since them days.He's what y'might call degenerated; a bit too fonder fire-water an'playin' poker. Ain't above takin' a hand in the road agency business,either."
"Meaning that he's a drunkard, a gambler, and a highwayman," noddedKiddie. "Well, I'll go along and see him, anyhow."
"No need," said Abe. "He's here in this yer camp, right now, with theboys that hev just rounded up an' corralled Gid's stolen ponies; onlyhe ain't figurin' ter meet you as knowed him only as a honest man. Heain't a whole lot proud of hisself, these times, ain't Nick Undrell."
Kiddie reached for his hat, strode across the veranda, and turnedtowards the corral. He looked exceedingly tall and handsome as he wentout.
"It's all right," he announced on his return, a quarter of an hourlater. "Nick's going to muster a gang of his pals, and they'll act asarmed escort. It seems that the word of the coming of my outfit hasalready been passed along the trail, and that even the Indians havegotten wind of it."
"Kiddie," said Isa Blagg, "you're makin' a all-fired mistake. NickUndrell has jus' canoodled you. That's about th' size of it. I knowsNick 's well as any one, an' I wouldn't trust him with a cent. Timeafter time in my capacity of sheriff of the Sweetwater district I'vehad him up before me--once fer stealin' a hoss, once fer robbin' themail, once fer shootin' a man in a gamblin' saloon. He's just adesperado, Kiddie, an' I wouldn't have no truck with him."
"Of course, I shall be there myself," Kiddie explained. "Young Rubeand I will be there."
"Git!" exclaimed the sheriff. "What's one man agin a hull gang o'scoundrels? You'll sure come a cropper, Kiddie; take my word. As ferthe boy, why, takin' him along o' you's only a added responsibility, aadded danger."
Warnings such as
these had very little effect upon Kiddie. Indeed,they only spurred him with a firmer resolve to the undertaking.
Three mornings later he started for Laramie, well armed, mounted on oneof Birkenshaw's prairie ponies, and accompanied by Rube Carter.
Much to the boy's disappointment, he was very silent during the longride. But his eyes and ears were constantly busy, and occasionally hepointed things out to Rube's notice--the flight of a covey of sagehens,the track of a herd of buffalo, the ashes of an old camp fire.
Once, after fording Red Pine Creek, Kiddie dropped a glove, apparentlyby accident, and dismounted to pick it up. Rube did not observe that,on remounting, his companion held a black feather between his fingers.
When they rode into Laramie, they found the cavalcade halted beforeBrierley's saloon, all ready to start. Nick Undrell rode up to Kiddie,respectfully touching the wide brim of his hat.
"All s'rene, sir," he announced. "I got a gang o' picked boysdistributed among the baggage. Seen any signs as you come along'?"
"Only this." Kiddie held forth the feather he had found. "What d'yemake of it?"
"Um, a black crow's wing feather, I guess," said Nick. "I see it's a_broken feather_. Where'd you pick it up?"
"Alongside of Red Pine Creek," said Kiddie, "with a pebble atop terkeep it in place. Quill end pointed south-east--direction of WhiteBull Ridge."
"Any hoof prints around? Thar was rain last night."
"No; just the touch of a moccasined foot in the moist sand, edge of thegrass."
"We'll start right now, then," Nick decided. "I've gotten all thebills and doc'ments. You'll sign 'em when the goods is duly delivered.You'll be ridin' in front, I guess? You'll take the boy along? Say,if you scents trouble ahead, jes' hustle him back ter make me wise.Savee?"
Kiddie rode well in advance of the leading wagon, with Rube at hisside. He was now more than ever silent and watchful. Between HorseShoe Bend and Hot Springs, where they were among the foothills andnarrow valleys, his gaze was fixed steadily forward over his pony'srestlessly twitching ears. He moved his rifle crosswise in front ofhim. Without averting his gaze, he said to the boy--
"Just drop back, Rube, and tell Nick ter close up the ranks."
Still riding forward at an easy pace, he gave no sign that he had seenanything unusual. The row of dark objects showing along the upper edgeof a projecting rock might well have been mistaken for so many birdspreening themselves in the sunlight, only that his keen eight hadcaught the movement of a pony's tail and the half-hidden plumes of anIndian's head-dress. He dropped the loop of his bridle reins over thepommel and slowly gripped his gun with a finger on the trigger.
Instantly, the Redskin's head was raised. Kiddie fired at it. Therewas a wild, barbaric yell, and from both sides of the ravine Indiansdashed forth from their ambush, riding downward to the attack.