The Cave in the Mountain<br />A Sequel to In the Pecos Country by Edward Sylvester Ellis (e book reader .txt) 📗

movement that was excessively trying to an impatient person who could not understand his reason for it. Mickey could see that he turned his head from side to side, and was using his eyes and ears to the extent of their ability. At the end of some fifteen or twenty minutes the base of the perpendicular wall on the opposite side was reached, and, greatly to the relief of his companions, he arose to his feet, they following suit.

“Begorrah, but that’s a swate relief, as me Aunt Bridget obsarved, when her ould man.”

A turn of the head, and an impatient gesture from the scout, silenced Mickey before he had time to complete the remark. He subsided instantly, and began a debate with himself as to whether he ought not to apologize for his forgetfulness, but he concluded to wait.

The long, lank figure of Sut Simpson looked as if it was a shadow slowly stealing along the dark face of the rock, followed by that of Mickey and the lad. They were as silent as phantoms, each walking as tenderly and carefully as though he was a burglar breaking into the house of some sleeping merchant, whose slumbers were as light as down. Mickey had no doubt that this was continued twice as long as necessary, although he conscientiously strove to carry out the wishes of the scout in that respect. He stumbled once or twice, but that was because of the treacherous nature of the ground.

They must have journeyed fully a quarter of a mile in this fashion before Sut held up in the least. During all this time, so far as Mickey could judge, nothing had been seen or heard of the Apaches, who, supposedly, would have guarded the outlet, in which the two had taken refuge, with a closeness that could not have permitted such an escape; but not one had been encountered.

It was a most extraordinary occurrence all through, and Mickey found it hard to understand how one man, skilled and brave though he was, could perform such a herculean task, for there could be no doubt that to him, under Providence, belonged the exclusive credit. Of course it was Sut who had fired the shot that saved Fred from a terrible death by the grizzly bear, and his well aimed and opportune shots had done the fugitives inestimable service when they were crouching in the fissure and despairing of all hope. But there must have been something back of all this. The scout must have possessed a greater power, which had not become manifest to his friends as yet.

“Now yer can walk with more ease,” he said, as he dropped back beside his companions; “but, at the same time, don’t talk too loud. Let us all keep as much in the shadder as we kin, for there may be other varmints around, and there’s no telling when you’re likely to run agin ’em.”

“But where are the spalpeens that shut us up in that split in the rocks?”

“They’re all behind us, every varmint of them, and thar they’re likely to stay for awhile; but, Mickey, I want yer to tell me what happened arter we parted among these mountains, and took different routes far the younker here.”

The Irishman related his experience in as brief a manner as possible, the scout listening with a great deal of interest, and asking a question or two.

“The luck was yer’s,” he said, when the narrator concluded, “of gettin’ on the right track, while I got on the wrong.”

Mickey scratched his head in his old quizzical way.

“The same luck befell the spalpeens and mesilf. I first got on their thrack, and then they got on mine, so we’ll call that square, as Mike Harrigan did when he went back the second night and took the other goat so as to make a pair.”

“That was nigh onto a bad fix when yer pitched into that cave, and couldn’t find the way out till the wolf showed the younker; but it wasn’t so bad as yer think, ’cause I’d been sure to find yer war thar. I know the way in and out of it, and I could have got into it and fetched you out, but yer war lucky ’nough not to need me.”

“How was it that ye were so long turning up arter we separated?”

“Wal, Lone Wolf and his braves rode so fast that it was a good while afore I cotched up, and found that he hadn’t the younker with him. Then, in course, I turned back and found that yer had flopped so much, off and on yer trail, that there was a good deal of trouble to keep track of yer.”

“Where did ye first catch the light of Mickey O’Rooney’s illegant and expressive countenance?”

“I saw yer stop to camp this morning a good ways up the pass, whar yer cooked yer piece of antelope meat, and swallowed enough to last yer for a week.”

“It was you that shot the grizzly bear just as he was going to kill me?” inquired Fred, with a pleased look in the scarred face of the scout, who smiled in turn as he answered:

“I have a ’spicion it war me and nobody else.”

“Why didn’t ye come forward and introduce yerself?” inquired Mickey, “it was all a mistake to think that we felt too proud to notice ye, even if ye ain’t as good-looking as meself.”

“Wal, I thought I’d watch yer awhile, believing I could do yer more service than by jining in, as was showed by what took place arterwards. Whar would yer have been if I’d got shet up in that trap with yer? Lone Wolf would’ve had our ha’r long ago.”

“But how did ye manage to fool the pack into giving us a chance to craap out?”

“That was easy enough when yer understand it.”

“I thought it would come aisier to a man who understood how to do it than it did to one who didn’t know anything about it.”

“Arter picking off one or two of the varmints, that made Lone Wolf mad, and he sent out a couple of his warriors to wipe me out. He didn’t think I knowed his game, but I did, and when they got round to where I was I just slid ’em under afore they knowed what the matter was. When he sent a third varmint arter them, and he went back and told the chief that the first two had gone to the eternal hunting grounds, he was so all-fired mad that he left only a half dozen to watch the hole where you was to come out, while he took the rest and come arter me.”

“I know a good many of Lone Wolf’s signals,” added the scout, with a chuckle, “and arter he had been on this side for a while, I dipped down into the pass, and signaled for the rest of ’em to come. They come, every one of ’em, and then I went for you, not certain whether yer war mashed or not. We got away in good time to save ourselves running agin ’em.”

Chapter XX. Sut’s Camp-Fire.

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“But where are Lone Wolf and his warriors?” asked Fred.

“Back yonder somewhere,” replied the scout, indifferently. “They came over into the woods this side the pass to look for the Kiowas that have been picking off thar warriors. It’ll take ’em some time to find the varmints, I reckon.”

“It’s mesilf that would like to ax a conundrum,” said Mickey, “provided that none of the gintlemin prisent object to the same.”

Sut gave the Irishman to understand that he was always pleased to hear any inquiry from him, if he asked it respectfully.

“The question is this: How long are we to kape thramping along in this shtyle? Is it to be for one wake or two, or for a month? The raison of me making this respictful inquiry is that the laddy and mesilf have become accustomed to riding upon horses, and it goes rather rough to make the change, as Jimmy O’Brien said when he broke through the ice and was forced to take a wash, arter having done without the same thing for several months.”

This gentle intimation from Mickey that he preferred to ride was promptly answered by the scout to the effect that his own mustang was some distance away in the wood, but he was unable to locate either of theirs, which they abandoned at the time they took such hurried refuge in the narrow ravine.

“But what become of all the craturs?” persisted Mickey, who was anything but satisfied at this plodding along. “Lone Wolf and his spalpeens did not ride away upon their horses.”

“No, but yer may skulp me if any of ’em are big enough fools to leave their animals where there seems to be any danger of other folks layin’ hands on ’em. When the rest of his band come over arter him, as they s’posed in answer to their signal, they took mighty good care not to leave their hosses where thar war any chance for the Kiowas to put their claws onto ’em. They rode off up the pass till they could reach a place whar the brutes could climb up and jine thar owners.”

“Then I’m to consider the question settled,” responded Mickey, “and we’re to tramp all the way to New Bosting, ef the place is still standing. Av coorse we can do the same, which I take to be three or four thousand miles, provided we have the time to do it and ain’t disturbed.”

Sut, after permitting his friend to hold this opinion for a time, corrected it in his own way.

“Thar ain’t no use of tryin’ to reach home on foot, any more than thar is of climbing up that wall with yer toes. Arter we strike camp, we’ll stop long enough to eat two or three bufflers, and rest, and while yer at that sort of biz, I’ll ’light out, and scare up something in the way of hoss flish. Thar’s plenty of it in this part of the world, and a man needn’t hunt long to find it. Are ye satisfied Mickey?”

The Irishman could not feel otherwise, and he expressed his profound obligations to the scout for the invaluable services he had already rendered them.

“Lone Wolf knows me,” said Sut, making a rather sudden turn in the conversation. “Me and him have had some tough scrimmages years ago, as I was tellin’ that ar Barnwell, or Big Fowl, rather, that has had the charge of starting the place called New Boston. I’ve got ’nough scars to remember him by, and he carries a few that he got from me. I have a style of sliding his warriors under, when I run a-foul of ’em, that Lone Wolf understands, and he’s larned long ago who it was that wiped out them two varmints that he sent out to look around arter me. Halloa! here we air!”

As he spoke, he reached a break in the continuity of the wall to which they had been clinging. The opening was somewhat similar to that into which Mickey and Fred had been driven in such a hurry, except that it was broader and the slope seemed more gradual.

Simpson turned abruptly to the left, and they began clambering upward. It took a considerable time to reach the level, and when they did so the scout led them back to the edge of the pass, which wound along fifty or a hundred feet below them.

“Thar’s whar we’ve come from,” said he, as they looked down in the moonlit gorge; “and while that’s mighty handy at times, yet it’s a bad place to get cotched in, as yer found out for yerselves.”

“No one will dispoot ye, Soot, especially when Lone Wolf and a score of spalpeens appears in front of ye, and whin ye turn about to lave, ye find him and a dozen more in your rear. That was a smart thrick was the same; but if he hadn’t showed himsilf in both places at the same time, we would have stood a chance of giving him the slip, as we had good horses under us.”

“Can’t always be sartin of that. Them varmints have ways of telegraphing ahead of ye to some of thar friends, so that ye’r’ll run heels over head into some trap, onless yer understands thar devilments and tricky ways.”

“When we were in camp,” said Fred, “we saw the smoke of a little fire near by. Was it yours?”

“It war,” replied Sut, with a curious solemnity. “I kindled that fire, and nussed it.”

“Well, it bothered us a good deal. We didn’t know what to make of it, Mickey and I.”

“It bothered the varmints a good deal more, which war what it war intended for. I meant it far a Kiowa signal-fire, and if it hadn’t been started ’bout that time, you’d had some other grizzly b’ars down on ye in the shape of ’Paches.”

“But it didn’t help us