Lost in the Canon Part 3

The conversation of the two men when they reached the top of the cliff proved the black boy's surmise to be correct.

They had left their horses. .h.i.tched to a rock, and as they prepared to mount, Frank Shirley said to his companion:

"That's the boy, Badger."

"The boy ez stan's atween you an' fortune?" said Badger.

"Yes."

"Wa'll, ain't you hired me to help you clear the way?"

"I have, Badger."

"Good; then let us git rid of the father first, an' then all the rest'll be ez smooth ez ile."

"You will stick to your contract?"

"I'd be a fool if I didn't. You pay expenses an' give me ten thousand dollars to get 'em out of the way. Isn't that it?"

"That's it, Badger," said Frank Shirley, as he mounted and rode along beside his companion.

"That ar boy down thar," said Badger, waving his hand back at the canon, "ain't no slouch. He'll fight, he will; an' the best way with sich is to give 'em no chance."

"No chance," echoed Frank Shirley, "that's it exactly. And now that we have them parted our opportunity has come."

"Just ez if 'twas made to order," said Badger.

After the men had gone, Sam and Ike went to work again, but the former had lost the cheerfulness that distinguished him in the morning.

He could not get those two men out of his mind, not that he feared their return-indeed, he could not account to himself for the strange feeling of dread that possessed him for the next three days.

While working, on the afternoon of the fourth day since his father's departure, he noticed that the sky had become overcast and that the water in the bed of the stream was rapidly rising.

He and Ike quit work earlier than usual, and they had great difficulty in making their way to the caves through the swollen torrent.

They had hardly reached cover when a terrific storm came up and the canon became as dark as night, while the roar of the waters and the crashing of the thunder were ceaseless and appalling.

It was about nine o'clock at night, and the three occupants of the cave were sitting with awed faces before the fire, when, to their inexpressible surprise, Ulna, the young Ute, stood dripping before them.

"How did you reach here?" asked Sam, springing to his feet and grasping Ulna's hand.

"I rode till I killed my horse, then I ran for hours. The flood was up, and it is rising, but I managed to swim across--"

"But my father!" interrupted Sam, pleadingly laying his arm on the young Indian's shoulders.

"He and Hank Tims are prisoners at Hurley's Gulch," said Ulna.

"Prisoners."

"Yes, and in the hands of the lynchers who charge them with the murder of Tom Edwards. Here is a letter from your father that will explain all," said Ulna, pulling a damp paper from his pocket and adding, "your testimony is wanted at once to clear the accused; but no man can cross the canon for a week, and then it will be too late!"

CHAPTER IV.-A PERILOUS SITUATION.

Sam Willett had courage and fort.i.tude in no common degree, but the words of Ulna, who stood dripping and panting before him, froze him with a speechless terror.

He took the wet paper from the Indian boy's hand, but for some seconds he had neither the courage nor the strength to open it.

The howling of the wind down the gorge and the hoa.r.s.e roaring of the maddened waters heightened the terror of the situation.

Wah Shin, though not well versed in English, fully understood the import of Ulna's message, but realizing his own inability to do or to suggest anything, he stood with his lips drawn and his little oblique eyes half closed.

Ike was the only one of the party who did not appear to have lost the power of speech. Taking the letter from Sam's hand, he said:

"Dat ar paper's powahful damp, an' I reckon, Mistah Sam, yeh kin read it bettah if so be I dries it so's it won't fall to pieces."

Ike opened the paper and while he held it before the fire, Ulna briefly explained the situation.

He said that Mr. Willett, Hank Tims and himself reached Hurley's Gulch without any mishap.

They found the rude mining camp in a great state of commotion owing to a robbery and murder that had recently been committed.

The more law-abiding, or rather the more industrious, for there was no organized law in the place, had formed a vigilance committee to hang the next murderer or robber, under the wild sanction of "lynch law."

"Just as soon as we reached Hurley's Gulch," continued Ulna, "we met Tom Edwards, and he was very drunk and very abusive. He shouted to every one he met that Mr. Willett had robbed him, and took Gold Cave Camp from him without paying a cent, though he had promised fifteen hundred dollars."

"Why, the man lies infamously!" interrupted Sam. "I was a witness to Edwards' receipt for the money in full, and I have it here among father's papers."

"And that receipt is what your father must have at once in order to clear him of the charge of robbery and murder," said Ulna.

"Murder!" repeated Sam.

"Yes. Last night Tom Edwards was found dying with a pistol bullet in his breast, and with his last breath he swore to the men who found him that your father and Hank Tims shot him to get rid of paying the money they owed him. The vigilantes at once arrested Mr. Willett and Tom, and they swear they will hang them if they do not prove that Tom Edwards was paid. I saw the money paid myself, but they refuse to take the word of an Indian," said Ulna, with a flash of indignation in his splendid black eyes; then continuing, "but they agreed to let me come here for the paper."

"Heah!" cried Ike, springing from beside the fire, "de lettah's dry enough to read. Let's know w'at Mistah Willett he has to say foh hisself."

Sam took the paper, and kneeling down to get the benefit of the light, he read aloud as follows:

"_My Dear Son_:-I do not want you to be at all alarmed at my detention. Ulna will explain why neither Tom nor I can return till you have brought us the receipt which Tom Edwards signed when I paid him the money in full for his claim at Gold Cave Camp.

"This receipt you will find among the papers in my saddle-bags.

Bring it to me with all speed and leave Ulna back in charge of the camp; it does not matter if the mining ceases till we return.

"I regret to have to tell you that Tom Edwards is dead. He was drunk when he received the shot that killed him, and he accused Hank and me of the crime. If the people here knew us well they would not believe this charge for one instant, but they do not, and so we must wait till we can show the vigilance committee who hold us prisoners, that we could have no motive for, even if we were inclined to do this awful deed.