Boy Scouts on the Range

  CHAPTER XI.

  CAPTURED BY MOQUIS.

  Too frightened to utter a sound, the others, who by this time hadreached the summit of the cliff, gazed over into the inky depths beneaththem. It was Merritt who first found his voice.

  "Rob, oh, Rob! What has happened?"

  "Don't ask me yet," gasped the boy below him, and, throwing himself flaton the narrow shelf, he peered over into the black void.

  "Tubby, Tubby!" he called softly.

  "Gee, that was a drop, all right!" came up a voice from below him.

  The astonished Rob almost fell over the edge of the ledge himself in hisexcitement.

  "Oh, Tubby, is that really you?"

  "I guess so," came the voice below, "but I wish you fellows would hurryup and get me out of this; I'm hungry."

  "Gracious!" thought Rob; "fancy thinking of hunger in such a position ashe is in."

  "I'm clinging to a tree," came up Tubby's voice. "I grabbed it as I wasfalling. It's only a very little tree, though, and I don't just know howlong it'll bear me."

  "Get in as close to the roots of it as you can," breathed Rob, hardlydaring to speak above a whisper for fear of dislodging his chum by themere vibration of his voice.

  "All right," said Tubby, and Rob could hear him cautiously making hisway along his slender aerial perch.

  Rob turned his face upward and hailed his corporal.

  "Say, Merritt," he cried, "take the fellows, and get back to camp asquick as your legs will carry you, and then get back up here again.Bring ponies and ropes with you--all you can get of them, and maybeBlinky and some of the men had better come."

  "All right, Rob. But how about you?"

  "I'll wait here. Hurry back, now."

  "We will," and an instant later Rob was alone, and his companions weremaking full speed to the camp.

  "How are you making out, Tubby?" called down Rob in a low tone.

  "All right. But my legs are cramped. Gee! I was lucky to strike thistree."

  "You bet you were. I noticed a few small ones clinging to the rocks aswe peeped over, but I didn't think they'd ever be the means of saving alife."

  "Don't holler till we're out of the wood. It's bad luck."

  "Well, they ought to be back within an hour with the ropes. I guess theycan get ponies up that trail."

  "I hope so," groaned Tubby. "I don't think I can hold out much longer."

  "Good gracious!" gasped Rob, "is the tree beginning to give?"

  "No, without grub, I mean. I tried to eat some of the leaves off thistree, but they're bitter and don't taste just right."

  "What! You've been moving about?"

  "Sure. I've got to have something to do."

  The very idea of any one's stretching their limbs in such a position asthe fat boy's, almost made Rob's hair stand on end.

  "Tubby must have nerves of steel," he murmured, "or else not know themeaning of fear."

  Then he went on aloud:

  "For goodness' sake, don't move any more, Tubby. The slightest falsemove might send you off into space."

  "All right, I'll keep still," Tubby assured him, but in a free-and-easytone.

  "Well, perhaps it's a good thing he isn't scared," thought Rob; "if hewere, it would make the job of getting him up twice as difficult."

  For a long time he lay silent on the narrow ledge, so absorbed in thedifficulties of the situation that he forgot everything. Even therecollection that there was a strong likelihood of the Indians pursuingthem down the passage had entirely gone out of his mind--displaced byTubby's accident. Suddenly the boy started up with a bound, whichalmost projected him over the ledge after Tubby.

  A hand had been placed on his shoulder.

  Before Rob could utter a sound another hand was placed over his mouthand he felt himself lifted from his feet. Peering down into his face,the startled boy could make out, in the faint starlight, half a dozencruel countenances.

  How bitterly he blamed himself for being thus caught off his guard! Thesimplest precaution would have kept him safe, but he had allowed thesoft-moccasined red men to slip up on him without placing the slightestdifficulty in their path. If ever a boy felt foolish and angry, it wasRob, as his silent captors slid noiselessly as cats into the black mouthof the tunnel of the cave-dwellers.

  "I'm a fine scout to be caught napping like that," was his thought.

  But as the redskins bore him into the narrow portal, they were compelledto release one of his hands. Rob took advantage of this to break ashrub, in a way which he knew would indicate as plain as print to anyBoy Scout who saw it which way he had been carried off.

  The next instant they were in the black tunnel. The Indians ran swiftlybut noiselessly, bearing in their sinewy arms the powerless boy.Frightened Rob was not. His brain was too busy thinking up some plan ofescape for that. His uppermost emotion was impatient anger at his folly.Even a loose rock, placed at the mouth of the passageway, would havebeen tripped over by the Indians, and thus have given him warning oftheir coming. Bitterly he blamed himself for his oversight. More bitterstill were his thoughts, as his mind reverted to poor Tubby, hangingalone in space, without any means of knowing what had become of Rob, forthe shelf, or ledge, on which the sudden drama of his taking off hadbeen enacted, overhung the cliff face as an eyebrow does an eye.

  On and on traveled the Moquis, almost noiselessly pitter-pattering alongthe dusty floor of the passage. They skillfully avoided treading on thecarcass of the skinned mountain lion, and it was not long before theyemerged in the bowl-like valley in which Rob had seen the solitarymarksman who had made a sieve of his hat.

  At the rocky portal the Moquis paused and grunted gutturally, and thenstarted forward on a steady jog-trot once more.

  "Well, this is a luxurious way of riding," thought Rob, as he reposed inthe sort of armchair the arms of the Indians formed, "if thecircumstances were different, I wouldn't mind taking a long trip likethis."

  It was so dark in the cup-like valley that the boy could see but littleof the country. He only knew they were in the strange depression bynoting how the dark walls upreared against the lighter hue of thestar-sprinkled sky.

  Before long, however, his tireless kidnappers began to trot along overrising ground. For what seemed hours they traveled thus. Presently theboy became aware of a faint glare in the near distance. At the sametime, the short, sharp yapping of a mongrel dog was borne to his ears.Before many moments had passed, they came in sight of several tepees,pitched under a grove of trees in a small, and seemingly inaccessible,canyon. The cook fires were lighted, and big pots hung over some of them.Children, squaws and dogs swarmed about, the curs yapping and snappingat each other. As the Indians who had captured the boy gave a shrillscreech, the village literally boiled over with activity. From thetepees poured braves and squaws and more children. All rushed forward tomeet the returning redskins.

  "Well, they seem glad to see us," thought Rob to himself; "wish I couldsay the same for myself. If only I knew how Tubby came out, I'd feelbetter."

  As he was borne into the circle of firelight, the boy was surrounded bya curious, chattering crowd, who pulled his clothes about, and poked himinquisitively. Suddenly, a tall Indian, his face hideously daubed withred, yellow and black, emerged with a stately stride from a tepeecovered with rude pictures of hunts and battles. He regarded the boywith a piercing eye for a moment, and then, raising his arm, pointed toanother tepee, and gave some sort of an order.

  Instantly Rob's arms were seized and pinioned by the Indians who hadbrought him from the cliff, and he was hustled over the ground and flungroughly into the tepee.

  "So that's their game, is it," gritted out Rob savagely, every drop ofhis fighting blood aroused by the cold-blooded ferocity of his manner ofentrance into the patched and smoky tent.

  "Well," he went on, "there's no use getting mad, I suppose. Anyhow, it'sa strange experience--captured by real Indians. That's more than any ofthe Boy Scouts at home can say, anyhow."

  No attempt had bee
n made to bind him, and Rob therefore peeped out ofthe flap of his place of confinement to see what was going on about him.

  His experience of Indians had hitherto been confined to the Wild Westshow variety. He was deeply interested in the life of the tepee village,as he watched it busily moving about him. The savory smell of theIndians' supper, as they dispatched it, caused a strange sensation ofemptiness about Rob's ribs, but no one came near him with food.

  "I'll be hanged if I'll ask them for it," grunted Rob to himself,"especially after the way they chucked me in here."

  When the meal was over, the braves pulled out their clay-bowled pipesand smoked stolidly. Not one threw even a glance at his tepee, and Robbegan to think they must have forgotten him. He grew terribly thirsty,and not far from the camp there must be a brook, as he realized, byhearing the silvery tinkle, tinkle of its waters over the rocks.

  "Well, as no one will bring me a drink, I'll go and get one," thoughtthe boy to himself, and he boldly threw back the flap of the tent andmarched out.

  For an instant a wild hope flashed across him that he could escape. Noattempt was made by any member of the smoking circle to check him, andthe boy reached the bank of the stream without the slightestinterference being opposed to his movements.

  "I'll try it," thought Rob. "I believe they've forgotten me."

  He placed his foot on a rock and was about to spring to the farther bankof the little creek, when a sharp voice behind him checked him abruptly:

  "White boy, come back!"

  The words came in the guttural, grunting tone that was unmistakablyIndian.

  Rob wheeled, and found himself looking into the muzzle of a gleamingrifle-barrel.