CHAPTER XVI.
WOLVES ON THE MOUNTAIN.
"And so you are George Fremont, the scoundrel wanted by the police ofNew York City for attempted murder and robbery--the rascal for whosecapture there is a reward of $10,000 offered!"
As the renegade repeated the accusation, his eyes flashed malignantly.Fremont listened silently, apparently unmoved by the vilifying words.
A moment's reflection convinced Jimmie--still observing the group fromthe shelter of his rocky hiding place--that the arrival of themessenger had slightly improved the situation so far as the interestsof his friends were concerned. The critical moment had for the presentpassed or been delayed, and the prisoner was no longer threatened withimmediate death. Jimmie, too, had been temporarily relieved of theresponsibility of the act he had decided upon--the shooting of therenegade if he lifted an arm to signal the murder of the prisoner.
Still, Fremont was yet in the power of the renegade, and might soon be,through the latter's malice and greed, in the hands of the Mexicanpolice and on his way back to the Tombs unless something was doneimmediately. Before, the renegade had been alone in his wish for thedestruction of the boy; that is, alone of all the group about him, andof all the outlaws gathering in the mountains. Now, with the news ofthe reward published abroad by the messenger and the renegade, everynative man, woman and child in Mexico would take a personal interest indelivering the prisoner to officials competent to hand over the largereward.
Jimmie listened intently and with a fastbeating heart for the stridentvoice of a drum. It seemed to him that Peter Fenton had been gone longenough to gain the camp. The secret service men, he knew, had not hadtime to reach the point of danger, but they had, he thought, had timeenough to make a noise like an advancing army. There werebright-plumaged birds singing in the early sunshine, but no indicationsof the approach of the help Fenton had gone to arouse. What the nextmove of the renegade and his companions would be the boy could not evenguess. He hoped, however, that the party would linger about thevicinity until the secret service men could come up.
This hope, however, was soon shattered. The renegade Englishmanconsulted with the messenger for some moments, pointing away to thenorth, as he did so, and then the outlaws were ordered into line,Fremont placed in the center, and all moved in the direction which hadbeen pointed out.
The course of travel, although due north in general, wound among cragsand through little canons, over level plateaux and along dangerousprecipices, it being the possible desire of the renegade to work hisway to the Rio Grande without coming into contact with officers orhostile groups of armed men who might demand a division of the fatreward offered for the arrest of the boy.
Owing to the character of the surface, Jimmie was obliged to wait forsome moments before following on after the party. In fact, it was onlyby moving cautiously and keeping cliffs and crags between himself andthe renegade's group of outlaws that the boy could make progresswithout being seen.
Before leaving the spot where the prisoner had stood, Jimmie selected arock of the size of a two-gallon jug, placed it in plain view, and laidon top of it a smaller rock. At the left he placed another stone, thesize of the one on top. This would direct any of the boys who mightcome too late to his relief.
During his Boy Scout excursions the boy had often used this "Indiantalk" to inform his friends of the course he had taken. All Boy Scoutsare supposed to be versed in "Signs in Stones." The large rock withthe small one on top read, "Here the trail begins." The smaller stoneto the left read, "Turn to the left." If the stone had been placed onthe right it would have read, "Turn to the right." If he had built apyramid of three stones, two on top of the large one, it would haveread, "You are warned: Proceed cautiously." Jimmie knew that Fentonunderstood signs in stones, and would therefore have no difficulty infollowing him if he came up later on.
As the boy followed on to the north, now and then sliding downdeclivities, turning with dizzy eyes from great heights, but foreverkeeping the direction taken by the hostile party ahead, he listened forthe sound of a gun, for the rattle of Fenton's drum, but listened invain. He feared that the boy had been captured on his way down.
Finally, after a rough journey of several hours' duration, the renegadecame to a halt at a point where the summit fell away in two directions,to the north and to the east. The divide seemed at least three hundredfeet lower than that to the south, and sloped gradually, on the east,to a desert-like plain, beyond which ran the river. Here the partyturned east toward the river and the boundary.
Jimmie, perched on a ledge facing the north, watched Fremont movingaway with a desire in his heart to send a bullet after the Englishman.He tried to attract the attention of the captive, but did not succeed.While the boy lay watching and listening for any sounds of rescuerscoming up the slope, a great rock, somewhere to the south, wenttumbling down the mountain, carrying smaller rocks with it until therattle of falling stones sounded like the din of a battle.
The renegade started and looked about suspiciously, doubtless fearingthat the slide had been caused by the incautious feet of a pursuer, buthis companions smiled and informed him that such incidents were commonthere and not at all alarming.
Jimmie smiled, too, for when the rattle ceased he heard a Black Beargrowling in a ravine not far away. In a second the snarl of a Wolfanswered the growl of the Bear, and then, almost before he becameaware of their stealthy approach, Frank Shaw and Peter Fenton laybeside him in his hiding place. It seemed to the boy, as they laythere panting from their long climb, that they had dropped out of thesky.
He gave each one a friendly kick and waited, with a grin on his face.
"Say," grunted Shaw, rolling over on his back, "I'm all fried out."
"You have plenty of fat left," grinned Jimmie. "How did you fellowsget here?"
"By following the signs in the stones," Frank replied.
Then Jimmie turned to Peter, also panting from his climb.
"Where's the drum you went after," he demanded, tauntingly.
"I got lost on the way down," Peter explained. "I didn't think I'dever see or hear a drum again. Then I came upon Frank. He was lost,too. I was on my way down to the camp, and he was on his way up tothe camp, and we met half a mile to the south of the camp, bothtrudging along like fools."
The situation was explained in a few words. Both boys had missed thetrail, and had found, not the camp, but each other. They had last metin New York. Frank had not the slightest notion that Peter had leftthe city. It was a fortunate meeting, for the two, after greetingeach other like chums, had studied the situation out much better thanone could have done, with the result that, after many false trails hadbeen followed, they had struck the one left by Jimmie.
"Where are they going with Fremont?" Frank asked, in a moment.
"They seem to be going after the reward," replied Jimmie.
"He'll get all the reward that's coming to him before he gets over theriver and claims the money," Frank exclaimed. "Do you think Fremontknows that you are here?"
Jimmie shook his head.
"I've had to keep back," he said, "and Fremont never will look my waywhen I get close up to where he is."
"He ought to know," the drummer said.
"I've done my best," Jimmie said, in a discouraged tone.
Frank Shaw smiled and dropped down behind a huge rock.
"Just wait a minute," he said. "Just wait until I catch me breath,and I'll put him wise to the fact that there's a Black Bear somewherein this turned-up-on-edge country. Watch, and see him jump."
Frank put his hand to his throat and emitted a growl which would havedone credit to a genuine black bear, a bear in a museum warning theinquisitive to keep away from his cage. The threatening sound,however, seemed to come from the other side of the slope where theprisoner stood.
The Englishman drew a revolver and glanced sharply around, while theoutlaws seized their guns and held them ready for action. It was clearto the boys
that they had been completely deceived by the signal, andwere expecting an attack from the animal at any moment.
Fremont did not seem to notice the signal, which was one the membersof the Black Bear Patrol had long practiced both in the forest and intheir club room, but his eyes were for an instant lifted toward thehiding place occupied by the three boys.
"He's next," whispered Fenton.
"I should say so," grunted Frank. "I guess he'd know a Black Bearsignal anywhere. We didn't learn that call by any correspondenceschool method. It is the genuine thing. We got it by dodging thekeepers and stirring up the black bears at Central Park."
The outlaws were now making timid runs out toward the point from whichthe sound had come, and the boys thought best to drop back a shortdistance, still keeping Fremont in sight, however. Directly theoutlaws assembled again and stood talking in the villainous lingowhich they had used before. It was evident that they were not alittle alarmed at the thought of a wild animal being so close to them.
"They'll think there's more than one Black Bear after them," Shawwhispered as the men turned down the eastern slope and again movedtoward the desert-like plain which lay between the mountains and theriver.
"There's a Wolf after them, too," grinned Jimmie. "If I had some ofthe Wolves I left in New York we'd eat 'em alive," he added. "I'mhungry enough to eat that big lobster at three bites."
As the boy ceased speaking a pebble struck him on the top of the head,and the whine of a wolf reached his ears. There was silence for amoment, and then the sharp, vicious, canine-like snap of a wolf onscent was heard.
"I reckon all the Wolves in the world are not in New York," Shaw said."That was a patrol signal, Jimmie. Go out and find your chum."
"It's Nestor!" almost shouted the boy, and Nestor it was, climbinglaughingly toward the astonished group.
"Get down! Get down," warned Frank. "You'll give us all away."
Nestor pointed to the ridge, from which the outlaws had nowdisappeared, and threw himself down by the side of the boys.
"Did you bring anything to eat?" demanded Frank, rubbing his stomach.
"Where are the secret service men?" asked Fenton.
"This looks like a Boy Scout convention," Jimmie put in. "Where did youcome from, and why didn't the guards come with you?"
In a few words Nestor explained the situation. He had left the secretservice men to convey the prisoners to El Paso, and had entered aloneupon a search for his friends. In a short time he had come upon signsin stones left by Shaw and Fenton, and had followed them to the placeof meeting.
"What's the matter with the secret service men?" asked Shaw.
"Aw, they're jealous of Nestor!" Jimmie put in. "I reckon theywouldn't much care if Nestor had been geezled instead of Fremont."
"They did all they were ordered to do," Nestor replied. "It is now upto us to release Fremont. I'm glad he knows we are here," Nestoradded, after due explanation had been made by Jimmie and Shaw. "He'llbe on the lookout for us."
"How are you going to get him?" asked Fenton.
"You've heard of cutting cattle out of a herd?" smiled Nestor. "Well,that is the way we are going to get Fremont. We're going to cut himout."