Three Young Ranchmen: or, Daring Adventures in the Great West
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He bounded back to the camp fire, but quick as was his movement, Allen was ahead of him. Both felt that Noel's peril must be extreme.
"Get a torch!" cried Watson, and caught up a burning brand.
"What of Slavin?" questioned Allen, but then, as the second shot rang out, he waited no longer, but with a torch in one hand and his gun in the other, he darted up the rocky steps as fast as he could. Watson was beside him, with pistol drawn, his gun resting on the side of the cave below.
It took but a few seconds to gain the vicinity of the little waterfall but before they came up they heard the third shot and another yell from Noel.
"My gracious!" burst from Allen's throat, as he beheld the awful scene.
Noel was lying partly on his back, with one foot pressed against the wolverine's stomach. The wild beast still held the young man by the arm.
Allen realized that whatever good was to be done must be done instantly, and without stopping to think twice he blazed away at the wolverine, twice in quick succession. Watson likewise fired, and the creature was struck each time. With a yelp that was almost human the wolverine turned, let go his hold on Noel, and leaped for Allen.
"Take care!" yelled Watson, and then fired another shot, just as the wolverine, unable to reach Allen's throat, made a clutch at his left leg. The shot from the old hunter took the beast directly in the right eye, piercing his brain, and he fell over like a lump of lead, to move no more.
"A close shave fer ye," remarked Watson, when he saw that Allen was uninjured. "A big one, too," he went on, shoving the wolverine with his foot. "How are ye, Urner?"
"I – I guess I am not much hurt!" gasped Noel, when he felt able to speak. "The beast bit me in the arm though."
"It's lucky he wasn't after gittin' at yer throat. I knowed a man onct as got a nip in the throat from a wolverine that made him pass in his checks then an' thar."
"It was a terrible encounter! I thought I was a goner sure."
"Didn't you have a torch?" questioned Allen.
"I did, but the water struck it and put it out."
"The darkness was what made the critter so bold," remarked Watson. "They're afeered o' fire, jes' like most o' wild beasts."
"Oh, my, we forgot Slavin!" burst suddenly from Allen's lips. "I'll wager a horse he has dusted out!"
"Ye're right," returned Watson, and began to make his way back to the camp fire with all speed, and with Allen close beside him. Noel was too weak to run and had to walk. He was still very white and his limbs trembled under him because of the unusual excitement.
The camp fire gained, it needed but a single glance around to convince them that Slavin had indeed gone.
"Took my shootin' iron, too, consarn him!" ejaculated Ike Watson. "What fools we wuz ter leave him yere alone!"
"We saved Noel's life by the operation," answered Allen.
"Thet's so, too, but – "
"You hate to see him get away. So do I, and – Look!"
"What now?"
"He has taken one of the horses, too!"
Allen was right, the best of the horses was gone.
"He ain't got much o' a start," said Watson. "So let us git arfter him hot-footed."
"I am with you on that, Watson; he must not get away under any circumstances. If he does – "
"We won't be able to git on the trail o' yer uncle."
"That's it."
Both were soon in the saddle, and shouted back to Noel to keep the fire burning and wait for their return. Then away they dashed into the midnight darkness.
The storm still continued and the rain poured down with a steadiness that was dismal enough to contemplate. But to the discomfort Allen gave scant heed.
"He must not get away," he said, to himself, over and over again. "We must capture him and make him take us to where the gang have Uncle Barnaby a prisoner."
"Right ye air, Allen."
To follow a trail under such circumstances was not easy, yet they found some tracks in the soft dirt directly in front of the cliff and these led on the back trail and then to where there was a deep ravine between the rocky slopes of the mountains.
Half a mile was covered and Watson called a halt.
"Ye want ter go slow yere," he cautioned, "I don't like the looks o' this territory nohow."
"What is wrong with it?"
"Full o' holes, fer one thing, and water under the surface. We'll go slow," and they did.
Occasionally it lightened and by the flashes of light they made out a fringe of woods skirting the hollow. The wind was coming up and this swept through the trees with a mournful sound.
They were moving with care when they heard a sudden yell ahead. It was Slavin calling to his horse.
"Back up!" they heard him cry. "Back, hang ye! De ye want ter pitch me in a hole?" And then followed a savage muttering they could not make out.
"We've got him!" cried Watson. "Come – but be careful, be careful."
"I'm going to dismount," said Allen, and did so and led his steed forward along the trail which the rain had made slippery and treacherous.
Watson likewise got down and they now had to wait for another flash of lightning to show them just where they were. As the flash came Allen gave a look ahead.
"Well, I never!" he ejaculated.
"Wot did ye see?" came quickly from the old hunter.
"Slavin has tumbled down and the horse with him."
"Then we've got the rascal sure!"
They plunged forward again. The trail was narrower than ever and the gully, or hollow, was on one side, and a fringe of mountain brush on the other.
Presently they heard something which served to increase their surprise. Slavin was groaning as if in extreme pain.
"The fall hurt him," said Allen, "Look after my horse, will you? I am going ahead."
He hurried on around a slight turn of the trail and through a clump of bushes and trees growing close to the edge of the hollow. As he emerged from the bushes a sight met his gaze that thrilled him to the backbone.
Slavin had fallen over the edge of the trail at a point where lay a huge half-rotted trunk of a tree. The trunk of the tree had slipped in the wet, rolled partly over the man, and was slowly but surely crushing the life out of him!
CHAPTER XXVII.
Allen Shows His Bravery
"Slavin!"
"Hel-help!" gasped the poor wretch. "Help! For the love of Heaven, help me!"
"How did you get under the tree trunk?"
"My horse kicked me and I fell. I tried to save myself from going into the hollow. Please help me!"
"Thet's wot ye git fer runnin' away," put in Watson, who had appeared on the scene.
"Don't – don't talk! Save me!" was Slavin's only answer.
"We'll do what we can for you," returned Allen.
Yet even as he spoke he realized how difficult, not to say dangerous, was the task which lay before him.
Should he attempt to roll the log over it might catch him just as it had caught the suffering wretch now under it.
"Take care, Allen!" warned Watson. "The bank here is mighty slippery."
"I know it," was the answer. "Watson, can you hold yonder branch?"
"Wait till I tether the hosses."
This was done as quickly as possible and then the old hunter caught hold of the branch Allen had mentioned.
Allen got down under the lower end of the fallen tree and caught Slavin by the arm.
"Can't you turn over?" he asked.
"I – I – can't budge!" was the low answer. And then with a groan the prisoner became insensible.
"He has fainted!" cried Allen, to Watson. "Pull on that branch for all you are worth."
"I'm a-pullin'."
Still the tree trunk did not budge, for one end was embedded in the mud lying on the edge of the bank.
Allen was determined to save the poor wretch who was slowly but surely having his chest crushed in by the sinking tree. Finding he could not move the tree he called on Watson to hold fast as before.
"Ye can't do nothin', Allen," protested the old hunter. "Come away afore the tree rolls over an' crushes ye too!"
"It won't roll if you hold fast," Allen answered.
"Yes, it will, when it starts. I can't git nothin' ter brace ag'in here."
"Well, I'm going to do my best and you must hold back as long as you can," was the answer.
Getting down on his knees, Allen began to scoop away the loose dirt with his hands, working directly under Slavin's body. It was hard work and broke his finger nails, but he kept on and at last had quite a hole made.
"Now hold hard, I'm going to pull!" he shouted to Watson, and the old hunter held as hard as he could. Then Allen pulled with might and main and at last had the satisfaction of getting the senseless body of Slavin free from its awful pressure.
"Quick, the tree is a-goin'!" came from Watson. "Give me yer hand!"
He reached forth and at the same time the tree began to slide down the hollow, directly in Allen's pathway. Allen had Slavin in his arms by this time. He made a leap and got on top of the tree, and just as the trunk went down Watson caught him and held tight.
"A close call an' no error!" cried Watson, when Allen was safe on the trail once more. "Ye came within an ace o' goin' into the hollow with the tree on top o' ye!"
"I guess Slavin's pretty badly hurt," said Allen, when he could get back his breath. "That trunk had him pinned down for fair. He would have been crushed in another minute or two. What shall we do with him?"
"Wait till I catch his hoss an' we'll take him back to the cave," answered Watson.
To catch the animal was not difficult and close at hand they found the gun Slavin had stolen. Then while Allen carried the firearms and led one horse and rode another, Watson took up the unconscious man in his arms and followed on his own steed to the cave.
They found Noel sitting by the fire nursing his lacerated arm. The wound was an ugly affair but by no means dangerous, and after it was washed and bandaged it felt a great deal better, although the arm was bound to be stiff for several weeks to come and sore in the bargain.
"Got him, I see," remarked the young man, as he glanced at Slavin. "What's the trouble, did you have to shoot him?"
"No, he got under a fallen tree," answered Allen.
The unconscious man was placed in a comfortable position near the fire, which was heaped up with fresh wood, that all might dry themselves, and Watson went to work to restore Slavin.
This was no mean task and it was a good half hour before the man opened his eyes to stare about him.
"I – I – where am I?" he stammered.
"Yer safe," answered Watson, laconically.
"That tree – Did I go over into the hollow?"
"No."
"How did I escape?"
"Allen Winthrop saved ye."
"He did!"
"Yes, Slavin; he's yer best friend, if ye only know it," went on the old hunter warmly.
"But I – don't – don't understand."
In a few words Watson explained the situation to which Slavin listened with much interest. Then his eyes rested on Allen.
"I'm much erbliged ter ye," he said slowly, and his manner showed he meant it.
"You were a fool ter try ter git away," went on Watson.
"I know thet – now," muttered the hurt one.
"Don't ye know I would have plugged ye on sight?"
"Would ye?"
"Sartain shur, Slavin."
"Wall, I won't give ye another chance," responded Slavin, with a heavy sigh.
"Ye won't git the chance, ye mean," said the old hunter, significantly.
"All right, jes' as ye please, Watson. But if thet young feller saved my life why I'm – "
"What?"
"I'm going to make it up ter him, thet's all."
"Do you mean that you will lead us without any further trouble?" questioned Allen eagerly.
"Thet's wot I do mean, an' I'll swear ter it if ye want me ter," added Slavin, solemnly.
"You needn't swear, Slavin."
"But I mean it, Winthrop. I may be a bad man, but I ain't so all-fired bad as ter forgit a man when he does me a good turn," went on the sufferer, with increased earnestness.
"Well, I will take you at your word."
"But I can't go on just yet. I've got a terrible pain in my breast, here."
"I suppose you have. We shan't move to-night and maybe not to-morrow. It will depend upon how Noel Urner feels."
"Oh, I'll go on," said Noel. "But I think a little rest here will do us all good," he added, thoughtfully.
"Yes, ye all need it," put in Watson. "An' now I want all o' ye to turn in an' git some sleep. I'll stay on guard."
"But not all night," insisted Allen. "Wake me at two or three o'clock."
And so it was arranged.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A Buffalo Stampede
Allen went on duty at three o'clock and remained on guard until six, when the others awoke.
The sun was showing itself in the east and all that remained of the storm were a few scattering drops.
"How do you feel?" asked Allen of Noel.
"Fairly well, although the arm is stiff, Allen." And the young man continued: "What shall we do with the wolverine?"
"Nothing, unless you want the pelt."
"I never want to see the beast again," said Noel, with a shudder for which Allen could not blame him.
"Then let him lie for the other wild beasts to feed upon."
When Watson arose Allen had breakfast ready and all ate without delay. Even Slavin got around, but it was plain to see that he was suffering.
"I want ter show ye I mean ter do what I said," he told Allen. "I'll go on if I drop in my tracks."
"We won't start just yet, Slavin," answered Allen, "and when we do we'll take it rather easy, both for your benefit and for Mr. Urner's."
It was past ten o'clock when they left the cave. Their horses were much refreshed by the rest taken, and despite Slavin's hurts fair progress was made along the foothills.
It was a lonely section of the State through which they were traveling and Allen could not help mentioning this fact to Ike Watson. But at his words the old hunter merely laughed.
"Lonely," he snorted. "Gosh all hemlock, Allen, it ain't half as lonely as it used ter be, not by a jugful. Why, I remember the time ye could ride fer days an' days an' see nuthin' but buffalo or some other wild critters."
"The buffalo are almost all gone now, aren't they?"
"Putty much, an' it's a great shame, too, fer they were fine game. But them sports used ter come out west an' kill 'em off by the score, worse luck! Didn't want 'em fer nuthin' either!" And Watson shook his head sorrowfully.
"Were you ever caught in a buffalo stampede, Ike?"
"Onct, Allen, onct, an' it's an experience I'll never fergit as long as I live."
"I should like to hear the particulars."
"Thet ain't really much ter tell, Allen. I wuz out on Crazy Tom Mountain at the time. Reckon ye know the place."
"Fairly well."
"Well, it wuz while the buffalo had been over to the Fork. Grazin' wuzn't very good thet season an' the critters wuz rather ugly in consequence."
"Yes, I've heard they get bad when their feed is cut short."
"As I wuz sayin', I wuz up alongside o' Crazy Tom Mountain, looking fer b'ar, an' I had jes' struck a fine trail when I heered a curious sound on the tudder side o' the hill. I couldn't make it out nohow at fust, but byme-by I thought it must be buffalo, an' I wuz right."
"Did they come right down on you?"
"No, worse luck, they didn't. If they hed I might have scooted to one side or tudder. But instead o' comin' straight over the mountain – 'tain's high, ye remember – they came around on both sides, an' afore I knowed it, I wuz right in the middle o' 'em."
"What did you do?" asked Allen, as Watson paused reflectively.
"At fust I didn't know what ter do persackly. I shot one of 'em, but bless ye, thet wuzn't nuthin', and I calkerlated as how I'd have ter ride fer it. Then of a sudden my hoss got scared and shot me over his head into a big thorn bush and made off like a streak o' greased lightnin', leaving me alone."
"With the buffalo all around you?"
"Jes' so, more'n twenty o' 'em, an' more'n a hundred others comin' up fast as they could leg it. I kin tell ye I wuz in a fix an' no error."
"It must have hurt you to land in the thorn bush?"
"Hurt? Wall say, it wuz like bein' dumped into a pit full o' daggers, that wuz! Hain't fergot the awful stickin' pain yit an' never will! But bein' chucked into thet thorn bush saved my life."
"Didn't the buffalo touch the bush?"
"Nary a one. They would come up close, on a dead run, an' then shy like a skittish hoss afore a bit o' white paper. Time an' ag'in I thought one would heave hisself atop o' me an' squash me, but the time didn't come. Say, but it wuz a sight, that wuz!" went on Watson earnestly. "Them buffalo was mad, clean stark mad, and trampled all over each other. The stampede at thet p'int didn't last more 'n three minutes an' arfter it wuz over thar wuz five buffalo dead less than four yards away from me!"
"Tramped to death by the others?"
"Yes, smashed up too. Ye never saw sech a sight. Arfter thet ye can calkerlate I keep clear o' all other stampedes," concluded the old hunter.
Talking over one thing and another the party moved along until about one o'clock, when a halt was made for dinner.
Allen found that Noel was suffering but little but his arm was well bandaged. Slavin, however, was pale.
"You need a rest, Slavin," he said, kindly.
"I reckon ye air right," was the faint response. "Didn't calkerlate ter git sech an all-gone feelin'."
"We'll rest until the worst of the heat is over; eh, Ike?"
"Jes' as ye say," answered the old hunter.
They found an inviting spot in a small grove of trees close to a spring and a brook, and proceeded to make themselves comfortable. Slavin was glad enough to drop into a light doze.
"He's a changed man, unless I miss my guess," said Allen to Noel.
"I think you are right, Allen. That adventure took him so close to death I fancy it rather awakened his conscience."
"I hope he does turn over a new leaf. He doesn't appear such a bad fellow at heart."
"You are right. I suppose some men get bad out here simply because they haven't any good example to follow. They cut loose from their old associates and fall in with the wrong sort."
"That's just it, and it's so much easier to find the wrong sort than the right sort. Some men think life altogether too slow unless they are doing something against the law."
Allen, as he rested, could not help but think of his two brothers. What were Chet and Paul doing? He sincerely trusted all was going well with them.
"They ought to be old enough to take care of themselves," said Noel. "You mustn't worry too much on their account."
"Well, we have to be on guard out here night and day, Noel. You really don't know who to trust."
"Oh, I know that."
"Just think of what my uncle has suffered, and of what he may be suffering this minute. It is enough to make one's blood boil!"
"It may not be as bad as you imagine, Allen. Your uncle must know a thing or two."
"Of course, but one man can't do much against three or four, or half a dozen. Those rascals will do all in their power to bring him to terms, rest assured of that."
"Well, I am willing to push on at any time you say."
"I'll push on as fast as Slavin can travel. I can't do more than that. If he caves in on our hands we'll have no means of finding out anything more about my uncle's whereabouts."
"He can't be shamming, can he?"
"Not a bit of it. He was caught under the tree and I wouldn't have been in his position for a thousand dollars."
"Then don't push him any harder than you dare. To me he looks like a fellow who might be getting a fever."
"I noticed that. But I hope he doesn't," concluded Allen.
But the fever was coming and by nightfall all of the others saw that Slavin was in a bad way. He sat up and began to talk wildly.
"Let me go! Take the tree from me!" he cried. "I haven't got the money! Oh, how do ye do Mr. Winthrop. Glad to see me, eh? And how is that new mine, an' what kind of a trade are ye goin' to make with Captain Grady, eh? Ha! ha! The cave by the seven pines! A good hiding place, the seven pines! Let me go, the tree is crushing me!" And then he fell back almost exhausted.
"He won't travel any more, not jes' yet," said Watson, soberly. "He's up ag'in a long spell o' sickness."
"Did you hear what he said about Captain Grady?" asked Allen.
"I did. He must be in this game, too. An' the seven pines."
"The cave must be at a place called the seven pines," said Noel.
"If it is I think I know the spot," answered Ike Watson. "I ran across 'em seven pines two years ago. They air about two miles from here, on the other side o' the mountain. We'll have ter go around ter git ter 'em."
An hour later Allen and Watson left Slavin in Noel Urner's care and struck out for the place on the other side of the mountain which the old hunter had mentioned.
CHAPTER XXIX.
The Long Lost Found
Before leaving camp both Allen and Ike Watson saw to it that their weapons were in good condition and ready for immediate use.
"No tellin' what we may run up ag'inst," said the old hunter.
"Well, I am ready to fight, if it comes to that," returned Allen, grimly. "But I would rather take the enemy by surprise."
"Thet would be the best way, Allen. But fust we must locate thet cave."
The ride around the mountain was a rather trying one and from a gallop they had to slow down to a walk. In some spots the trail was much cut up and the mud was deep, while in others they had to pick their way over rocks which were as smooth as they were dangerous.
"Look thar," said Watson, as he paused on a spur of the rocks. "Thar's a tumble fer ye!"
He pointed to a canyon all of five hundred feet deep and Allen had to draw back after looking into the awful depth.
"If a fellow should tumble here he would never live to tell it," said the young ranchman. "This would be a bad trail to follow in the dark."
Moving away from the spur of rocks overlooking the canyon, they turned to the northwest and plunged through a forest of cedar and hemlock. Here the wild birds were numerous and Allen was tempted to bring some of them down with his gun, but Watson demurred.
"No use o' makin' too much noise," he explained. "Remember, somebody may be on guard up at thet cave."
"Slavin said he thought only an old woman had been left in charge – a woman who claimed to be Darry Nodley's wife."
"Didn't know as how thet rascal hed a wife."
"That is what Slavin said."
"It might be the truth, and then ag'in, it might not. We don't want ter believe too much, Allen."
"I agree with you, Ike. But I think Slavin was really anxious to help us after we did him that good turn."
The old hunter shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps; but I've seen too much foul play in my time ter trust everybody. Thar may be a woman up thar, an' thar may be some men-folks too."
So the talk ran on and they gradually drew closer to where the old hunter had once seen the seven pine trees. To one not used to a life in the open, to remember such a locality after two years' absence would have been difficult, but it was not so with Ike Watson.
"Can't fool me on a thing like this," he said, flatly. "Onct I see a place it hangs in my mind forever. Same way with a trail. Why onct I struck a trail in the south o' the State, kind o' a mixed trail too. I didn't see thet trail fer nigh onto six years, but when I did see it ag'in I knew it jes' as quick as I clapped eyes on it."
"I believe you," replied the young ranchman. "You have an eye like a hawk," and in that Allen was right.
The sun was sinking low in the west when they came out of a defile in the rocks and the old hunter pointed to a valley on the opposite side of the foothills below them.
"Do ye see them, over thar?" he questioned.
Allen gave a long look.
"I do – seven pines, sure enough!"
"Told ye I'd remember the spot!" cried Watson, triumphantly.
"But where is the cave?" went on the young ranchman.
"Like as not it's close by. Come, before the sun goes down an' it gits too dark."
Soon they were making their way along the foothills at the lower side of the mountain. They had to pass through considerable brush and while they were doing this Watson suddenly halted and pointed to his side.
"What is it?" asked Allen, as he also halted.