A Waif of the Mountains

CHAPTER XXII

FRIENDS

Colonel Briggs was nonplussed for the moment. He had failed to scare the men whom he meant to despoil of their property and some of the mutterings behind him showed that he lacked the unanimous support of his followers.

“Boys,” he said, looking round in their faces; “you’ve heerd what these strangers say to my mild requests. Since they are too mean to trade, I leave it to you to say whether we shall let up on ’em or make ’em trade; which is it?”

“Trade! trade!” was the response, given with such ardency that there seemed to be no dissent, though there was.

“That hits me right; trade it shall be; the first one of the strangers that kicks, fill him full of holes.”

“And the first man that lays a finger on my property,” said Captain Dawson, in the same deliberate voice, “will be shot down like a dog!”

The person whom Parson Brush had selected a few minutes before for his first target and whom he was watching closely, now did an extraordinary thing. This individual was thin to emaciation. His beard was scant and scraggly, and his large black eyes gleamed like those of a wild animal. He had a very long body, and sat so upright in his saddle, with his Winchester resting across in front, that he towered head and shoulders above his companions. From the first, he fixed his penetrating eyes on Captain Dawson and studied him closely. It was this persistent intensity of gaze that attracted the notice of Brush, who set him down as being even more malignant than the leader of the disreputable party.

When a collision was impending, and must have come the next second, the singular looking man, grasping his revolver, raised his hand above his head and called:

“Hold on a minute!”

His commanding voice and manner hushed every one. From his place at the rear, he spurred his mule straight toward the three men standing on the ground.

“Keep off!” commanded the parson; “if you come any nearer I’ll shoot!”

The extraordinary looking individual gave him no heed, but forced his mule in front of Captain Dawson, upon whom he kept his eyes riveted.

“Don’t fire till I give the word,” commanded the captain, who had become suddenly interested in the tall, slim man.

Halting his mule directly before Dawson, and with no more than a couple of yards separating them, the stranger craned his head forward until his chin was almost between the long ears of his animal. He seemed to be trying to look the officer through, while every other man watched the curious proceeding.

Suddenly the fellow resumed his upright posture in the saddle, his manner showing that he had solved the problem that perplexed him. Through his thin, scattered beard, he was seen to be smiling.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Maurice Dawson.”

“Formerly captain of the Iowa – cavalry?”

“The same at your service.”

“Don’t you know me, captain?”

The officer thus appealed to took a single step forward, and looked searchingly in the face of the man that had thus addressed him.

“There is something familiar in your looks and voice, but I am unable to place you.”

“Did you ever hear of Corporal Bob Parker of the – Missouri?”

“Yes; you are he! I recognize you now! I am glad to greet you.”

And shoving his Winchester under the stump of his arm, Captain Dawson extended his hand to his old comrade and shook it warmly, the two seeming to forget the presence of every one else.

“Something in your face struck me,” said the corporal, “but I wasn’t sure. The last time I saw you, you had both arms.”

“Yes; I got rid of this one at the very close of the war.”

“Things were pretty well mixed up around Petersburg; I tried to get on your track, but failed; I knew you meant to come to California, and when we drifted here, I was hopeful of finding you, but I didn’t think it would be in this style.”

While speaking the corporal had retained the hand of the captain, shaking it occasionally as he spoke. He now gave it a final pressure and dropped it.

“Captain, you and I went through some pretty tough scrimmages and you were always dead true and game; when we lost our colonel and major, you took command and led the charge that day at Cold Harbor; Grant or Sheridan couldn’t have done better.”

“It was rather warm,” smiled the captain, blushing at the compliment; “but, corporal, it looks as if we are going to have something of the kind here.”

Corporal Parker deliberately turned to the wondering group behind him.

“Jim and Tom, you know what we agreed on, if this should prove to be my old commander. You two wore the gray, but you are true blue now.”

At this reminder, two of the company without a word rode forward and placed themselves beside the corporal.

“Now, we’ll face the other way.”

His suggestion was followed. The three wheeled their animals around, so that their riders, like the footmen, were in a line confronting Colonel Briggs and his astonished company.

“Dress,” said the corporal, looking down and moving his mule about until the alignment would have drawn a compliment from a West Point cadet.

“Now, boys, are your shooting irons ready?”

“They gin’rally air,” was the significant response of one of the men.

“All right, colonel,” added the corporal making a military salute; “everything being in readiness please let the skirmish proceed.”

Colonel Briggs emitted a forceful exclamation.

“What’s the meaning of all this? I don’t understand it.”

“There are six on each side; that evens matters; shall you start the music or do you prefer to have the captain fire the opening gun?”

“But you haven’t told me what this means.”

“It means that Captain Dawson and Corporal Bob Parker have drunk from the same canteen.”

It must be conceded that Colonel Briggs had one merit; no one was quicker than he to grasp a situation. So long as there were nine men on one side and three on the other, the success of the former was promising. He meant to crowd the defiant miners to the wall and would have done so but for the unprecedented turn of affairs. Now it was six to six and he knew the mettle of the three recruits that had joined the miners. Bob Parker was the most terrific fighter in the whole company. He was one of those men, occasionally seen, who was absolutely without fear. He would have stood up alone and fought the other eight. During that single week in Sacramento, he gained the name of a terror and caused a sigh of relief on the part of the authorities when he left for the mountains.

The corporal always fired to kill, and his skill with rifle and pistol was marvelous. While talking with Colonel Briggs, he fixed his brilliant black eyes on him, as if to intimate that he had selected him for his pet antagonist. All this was disconcerting.

In this crisis, when every nerve was drawn tense and the question of life and death hung on the passing of a breath, Colonel Briggs leaned backward and elevating his chin in the way that had become familiar, emitted one of his resounding laughs. Then he abruptly snapped his jaws together like the springing of a trap.

“Why, Bob, this puts a different face on things,” he said cheerily; “if the man’s a friend of yours, of course we can’t quarrel with him.”

“I rather think not,” replied the corporal.

“I was in the army myself,” added the colonel, “but didn’t stay long; me and General Grant couldn’t agree as to how the war should be run, and one night when no one was around, I resigned and left.”

“Then you didn’t win your title in the service,” remarked Captain Dawson, who felt that he could afford to show good will, now that the situation had taken so remarkable a turn.

“Scarcely; the boys think that no officer lower than a colonel is fit to command this crowd, so that’s how I got the handle.”

Captain Dawson could not forbear saying:

“I think it much more befitting that a true and tried soldier, like Corporal Parker, should be in your place.”

“It was offered to me,” said the corporal, “but I refused it.”

“No; we agreed to make him a full-fledged major-general, but he declined the honor with some sarcastic remarks,” said the colonel; “howsumever, boys, now that things have been straightened out, do you intend to go with the captain or with us?”

Corporal Parker addressed his two comrades.

“Wheel and salute!”

They faced their animals around, and, taking the cue from the corporal, made an elaborate military salutation to Captain Dawson and his companions. Then they wheeled again and rode back to their former places.

“With my best regards,” added the colonel, also saluting, while the rest half-nodded and grinned over the odd turn of affairs. Dawson, Brush and Ruggles unbent sufficiently to respond, but kept their places, side by side, and watched the curious procession until it passed out of sight beyond a sweeping curve in the cañon.

“I wonder if we are likely to see any more of them,” said the parson; “they are an ugly lot and badly want our horses.”

“Not badly enough to fight Corporal Parker and his two friends. The corporal is the bravest man I ever saw. I know he was disappointed when the colonel was so quick in backing down. He will go hungry for two or three days, for the sake of a fight. It is he and not the colonel or any one in the company that is spoiling for a row.”

“And I picked him out as the first one to shoot,” grimly remarked Brush.

“The chances are ten to one that he would have dropped you first, but it shows how easily one may be mistaken.”

“I tell you,” said Ruggles earnestly, “when that gang strikes New Constantinople, there’ll be trouble.”

“There’s no doubt of it,” commented Brush; “the forces will be about equal; if the boys at home could have warning of what is coming, they would make it so hot for Colonel Briggs and his tramps that they would be glad to camp somewhere else.”

“That wouldn’t improve matters, for of necessity there would be passing back and forth, and there are some people at New Constantinople who would welcome the change. That’s the worst of it; a good deal of this evil seed will fall on soil waiting for it.”

“We may be back in time to take a hand in the business,” said the parson; “I don’t know whether your friend, the corporal, can be secured as an ally.”

“It is doubtful, for about the only merits he has are his bravery and his loyalty to his friends.”

“In my ’pinion the same is considerable,” commented Ruggles.

“He would be a powerful friend to Nellie, because she is a female and because she is my daughter, but,” added the father with a sigh, “I have my doubts whether I shall ever take her to the settlement again.”

This announcement strangely affected the two who heard it, for the dearest schemes which they secretly nourished included the spending of their days in the mining settlement. The hope of each had flickered into life once more with the prospect of recovering and punishing her abductor. They knew that she would bitterly mourn his loss, and would probably be inconsolable for a time, but the months and years would bring forgetfulness and then–who should say what might come to pass?

“We thought,” remarked Ruggles, as they resumed their seats, “that we should have a weary wait for Vose, but it didn’t prove so dull after all.”

The captain looked at his watch.

“He has been gone more than an hour, and there’s no saying when he will be back. He has his own way of managing this business, and, though I concede his skill and superior knowledge in this part of the world, it is hard to keep my patience when I see the hours slipping away without bringing any results.”

But the patience of the three men was tried more sorely than ever before, and to a greater extent than any one of them anticipated. Noon came and passed and without bringing Vose Adams. The party partook sparingly of their lunch, leaving enough for their absent friend, but the lagging hours wore away and they still waited. They said little to one another, but the captain, unable to restrain his restlessness, wandered down the cañon. The two left behind watched him until he passed from view in the direction taken by Colonel Briggs and his company. A few minutes later, the report of his rifle came back to them.

“I wonder if he’s got into trouble,” exclaimed the parson, rising to his feet and peering to their left, without seeing everything to explain the sound that had reached them.

“I shouldn’t wonder,” replied Ruggles; “everything is going wrong; Vose wouldn’t stay away so long, unless he, too, was in difficulty.”

“The captain may need us; he can’t be far off.”

Gun in hand, the couple walked hurriedly down the cañon, on the alert for Indians, for it seemed more likely that if any danger threatened, it was from them. To their relief, however, they soon found their alarm groundless. The captain was seen coming, apparently as well as ever.

“Nothing is wrong,” he explained when they were within speaking distance; “I saw an antelope among the rocks and took a shot at him.”

“How near did you come to hitting him?”

“He made only a single jump after he received my bullet; it’s a pity he didn’t make a couple of them.”

“Why?”

“It would have brought him over the outer rock and into the ravine; then we should have had something for supper. Haven’t you seen Adams yet?”

Instead of answering directly the three looked toward the fissure in the side of the cañon, and there, to their unspeakable relief, they saw the man who had been absent for so many hours. As is the rule at such times, their ill-humor deepened.

“Why didn’t you wait till morning?” was the question of the captain.

“I was afraid I would have to do so,” replied the guide, whose flushed face and agitated manner proved that he brought important news; “but I didn’t have to, and got away in time to reach you afore night.”

“Not much before,” commented the parson; “you must have had a remarkable experience to detain you so long.”

“Rather, but I’m starving, give me something to eat, while I talk.”

The lunch was produced, and he fell to with avidity, but he saw they were in no mood for frivolity, and he did not presume upon their indulgence.

“Wal, pards, after leaving you, I picked my way as best I could up the gorge, which runs back, with the bottom rising more or less all the way, for ’bout two hundred yards when you reach level ground. That is to say, the gorge ends, but the ground is anything but level.”

“And they went all that distance ahead of you with their animals?” asked Brush.

“That’s what they done; the tracks of the horses were so plain there couldn’t be any mistake ’bout it. At the top of the gorge, the trail slanted off to the right, toward a big pile of rocks, caves and gullies, where it didn’t look as if a goat could travel. There was so much stone that it was mighty hard to keep on the trail and I lost it.”

“And didn’t you find it again?” demanded the captain.

“Yes, but it took a good deal of time; that’s one reason why I was gone so long, but it wasn’t the only reason by a jug full. When I struck it agin, it led straight toward a high rocky place to the left, where I made up my mind the two were hidin’.”

“That would imply that they knew we were close behind them.”

“There can’t be any doubt of that. What bothered me was to learn what they had done with their horses, fur the prints that I followed was made by the folks’ feet. I couldn’t figger out what they had done with the animals, and I spent some more time in trying to larn, but it was no use.

“Bime by I struck better ground, where the trail was so clear I could have trotted over it.”

“Why didn’t you do it?” asked Ruggles.

Adams shook his head.

“It wouldn’t have done; as I said they must have found out, purty early in the day, that we was after them, for if they didn’t, why did they turn off the reg’lar track?”

“Never mind asking questions,” replied the captain; “go on with your story.”

“Wal, pards, by that time I must have been a mile from here and it looked as if I’d have to go that much further. I had a good mind to come back after you, for time was important, but when another rocky, walled-up place showed in front of me, I was sartin I was close upon ’em. Their horses couldn’t make their way through such a spot, and I was sure I had ’em fast.”

“Why didn’t you come back at once?” said the captain, “but, never mind, go on with your account.”

“I thought it would be best to find out just how they was fixed. At the same time, it would never do to let ’em diskiver that I was about. So I was powerful careful and crept forward as if into an Injin camp. It wasn’t long before I smelled burning wood. That told me they had come to a stop, built a fire and didn’t dream I was anywhere in the neighborhood.

“But I wasn’t through with the bother yet; it took me another long time to find where that fire was burnin’, but I hit it at last. A little faint streak of smoke was climbin’ from behind a ridge, among a growth of pines. I begun creeping forward when I changed my mind. I thought that if one of ’em happened to be on the watch and see me, they would be off afore I could git anywhere near ’em. So I worked round to the other side to come upon ’em from that. Then you see if they took the alarm, they’d have to come back toward you or make another long circuit. Anyway, I was sure of a chance to meet ’em.

“Wal, pards, I don’t want to make a long story of what is a short one. I got round to tother side, but it took me a good while, and it’s hardly an hour ago that I catched my first sight of their camp.”

“What passed between you and them?” asked the captain.

“When I rested my eyes on the little bundle of wood burnin’, there wasn’t a man, woman or horse in sight.”

The listeners were dumbfounded for the moment. After the waste of the greater part of the day, they were no nearer seeing the fugitives than before. In a voice, husky with passion, Captain Dawson exclaimed:

“It will take hard work to convince me that all this was not done on purpose by you.”

“What do you mean?” demanded Vose, showing more anger than at any time since the strange hunt had been begun.

“If you had spent a week trying to fix things so as to help them get away from us, you couldn’t have done any better than your own account shows you to have done. The whole day has been lost and we stand just as near success as we did twenty-four hours ago.”

“You ought to have returned to us as soon as you located them,” added Brush in the effort to soothe the ruffled feelings of the two.

“P’raps I didn’t do the wisest thing,” replied Adams with unexpected meekness; “but I ain’t the first person in the world that has made a mistake. Howsumever, there won’t be any more slips by me.”

His companions looked inquiringly at him.

“I don’t understand that remark,” said the captain, “when you are sure to blunder as long as you attempt to manage things.”

“That’s the p’int; I resign from this time forward; I haven’t given satisfaction and you may now do the work to suit yourselves.”

“It’s just as well,” commented the captain, “for we can’t make a greater mess of it than you.”

The story told by Vose Adams was a singular one, but the most singular feature about it was that it did not contain a grain of truth. Every statement was a falsehood, deliberately intended to deceive, and, seeing that he had succeeded in his purpose, he was satisfied.

CHAPTER XXIII

VOSE ADAMS

Lieutenant Russell gave no hint to Nellie Dawson of the scheme upon which he had fixed his hopes, until after she had confessed her love for him, and he was certain beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he possessed the sole affection of her heart. Even then he hesitated for he knew the shock it would cause the gentle one, who was devotedly attached to her father. But the resolution of Captain Dawson to spend the remainder of his days at the mining settlement, and his intention of selecting her husband from among those that had made New Constantinople their home for years, crystallized the determination that had been vaguely shaping itself in his brain for weeks.

As he expected, she recoiled shocked by the proposal to leave her father; but love is eloquent, and he won by convincing her that the separation would be only temporary. Her father would be quick to see the great wrong his course would inflict upon his child, and he would not only consent to the union, but would follow and make his home with them. It was this implicit belief which made her the companion of Lieutenant Russell in the flight from the mountain settlement.

The project having been carefully planned and arranged, the preparations were more complete than those of their pursuers. They took sufficient extra clothing in the form of wraps and blankets, and enough food to last for several days. They were well mounted and had the companionship of the huge dog Timon, with his almost human intelligence.

The lieutenant’s memory of places was good, and, having a number of hours of daylight at command, he escaped the mistake of his pursuers. The turn from Dead Man’s Gulch was made at the right point, and they were miles on their way before their flight was discovered by Captain Dawson and his friends.

Both of the fugitives did not doubt they would be pursued. They knew the consuming anger that would take possession of her father, who would probably collect several companions and start after them with furious haste. He would take frightful vengeance upon the man that had dared to steal his daughter. Everything, therefore, must be done to keep beyond his reach until his wrath had time to cool. The intention was to make Sacramento ahead of him. At that city, the lieutenant would seek out his future father-in-law and plead his cause.

When night closed around them, they had penetrated to a distance of perhaps fifteen miles in the Sierras. It was at sunset that they passed a spot, where horses and riders, the latter on foot, had to pick their way with extreme care, while even Timon, who clung faithfully to them, showed timidity, though he had been over the place before. The sagacious brute knew that a mis-step on his part meant death. The passage, however, was made without mishap, and Russell, as he helped his companion into the saddle, assured her that nothing so trying to the nerves was to be expected during the rest of the journey.

There was no fear of pursuit until after nightfall, but Russell frequently pointed his glass backward and scanned the trail over his whole field of vision. When the gathering darkness shut out everything, he had seen nothing of enemies, either white or red. He could not forget that on his previous journey, he and the captain had desperate fighting with the Indians and the same peril still impended.