On the Trail of Pontiac Part 11

As the time pa.s.sed the others concluded that Henry and Barringford had found the buffalo hunt longer than they had antic.i.p.ated.

"Perhaps the animal has led them such a chase they won't come back until morning," suggested James Morris. "It is no fine thing to travel in the wet and darkness."

"Right you are," said Sanderson. "Sam may hunt in the wet if he wants to, but none of it for me."

An early supper was had, and something was kept hot for those who were missing, for it was felt they would come in chilled to the bone and with tremendous appet.i.tes.

Dave was beginning to grow sleepy when he heard a movement outside, and a moment later Sam Barringford came into view, with downcast face and with the water dripping from his c.o.o.nskin cap and hunting shirt.

"Sam!" cried James Morris, leaping up. "So you've got back at last. Did you get the buffalo? Where is Henry?"

"No, we didn't get the buffalo," answered the old frontiersman. His voice grew husky. "Henry--he is--missing--he dropped over a cliff--" He could not go on.

"Over a cliff!" gasped Dave. "You don't mean he is--is--" He too failed to finish what was in his mind.

"I can't tell you what happened after he slipped from my sight," went on Barringford.

"Oh, Sam, do you mean to say he is killed?"

"I hope not, lad. But it looks juberous, no two ways on't."

"Tell me how it happened," said James Morris, and now all in the camp gathered around to hear what the old frontiersman had to say.

The ice once broken, Barringford's tongue grew more talkative, and he related all the particulars so far as he knew them.

"When I worked my way down into the waterway I felt sartin I would find Henry in some sort o' shape," he concluded. "But I couldn't find nuthin', not even his cap. His gun he dropped on the hill, an' here it is," and he handed it to Dave.

It was a fearful shock, and the tears stood in Dave's eyes and ran down his cheeks, while the youth's father was scarcely less affected. The frontiersmen had little to say, and the Indians, with the exception of White Buffalo, took the matter stoically, for the perils of the hunt were no new things to them.

White Buffalo took in every word that was spoken. When matters of importance were to be considered he had little to say.

"Shall White Buffalo go forward and make a search?" he asked simply, after Sam Barringford had stopped speaking.

"What can you do, after Sam here has failed?" questioned James Morris. "I know you are keen on the trail, White Buffalo, but you know that Sam is too."

"Four eyes are better than two," returned the Indian, using an old saying of his tribe.

"Let him go by all means if he wishes," put in Barringford. "The man to find Henry an' bring him back to camp is my best friend."

"White Buffalo, will you take me along?" asked Dave eagerly.

"Dave, son, don't you think you had better remain with me?" asked his father.

"No, father; we must find Henry. Please let me go!"

"Dave can go if he wishes," answered White Buffalo. "The journey will not be pleasant, but if Henry is found we shall be glad. Is not White Buffalo right?"

"Take torches with you, or a lantern," said Barringford.

Torches were quickly procured and placed in a bit of skin, that they might not get wet. Then another torch was lit, and the old frontiersman gave the Indian chief minute directions about the trail to the water course under the cliff.

"White Buffalo knows something of that land," said the chief. "He will not go astray."

"I should hope not," said Dave. "We want to find Henry, not lose ourselves."

"Take a bag full of eating along," put in James Morris. "You may want something before morning. And also a bandage and some stimulants for Henry, in case he is badly hurt and needs them." He could not let himself believe that his nephew was dead.

"All right, father; I'll take whatever you say," answered Dave, and soon he and White Buffalo had all the articles mentioned. Each went armed with his rifle and hunting knife, and the Indian carried his hatchet as well.

"Do not remain away later than to-morrow noon," said James Morris, when they were ready to leave. "If you are not back by that time I shall fear that something has happened to you also."

"Don't fear for me so long as I am with White Buffalo," replied Dave; and this speech pleased the Indian chief very much.

"Don't you try to go down to the stream by way of the hill," cautioned Sam Barringford. "If you do you may break your necks."

The old frontiersman had sprained his foot, but he did not deem it best to mention that fact. Nevertheless, if he had been better able to walk he would probably have accompanied Dave and White Buffalo in spite of the first search made by him.

"It's a shame, thet's wot it is," he declared, after the youth and the Indian had departed. "It distresses me oncommonly to think such a thing could happen to Henry."

"I hope with all my heart he is alive," responded James Morris.

"But if he is dead--?"

"Then I shall return to Will's Creek without delay, and start for the west some time later--after I have given my brother and his family all the comfort I can," said the trader soberly.

CHAPTER XI

HAPPENINGS OF A STORMY NIGHT

It is now high time that we return to Henry and see how he fared after his sudden and unexpected disappearance over the edge of the cliff.

The young pioneer was well aware of his peril and as he rolled out of Sam Barringford's sight he clutched wildly at every bush and projecting rock that came near his hand.

Once a sapling, growing in a cleft of the cliff, struck his shoulder.

Around this he managed partly to twist his arm, and this saved him from serious injury.

He struck some rocks, however, with considerable force and for a moment was stunned.

"What a tumble!" he muttered, when he had regained his breath. "It is a wonder that I didn't kill myself."

With an ache in the side occasioned by the rough experience, Henry arose and started to look for some spot along the cliff where he might climb to the top.

Where he stood it was almost totally dark, and he had not taken over a score of steps when he floundered into a hollow filled with water and mud.

He leaped across this, to find himself in a split of the cliff, where the bushes were unusually high and thick. Here the rain hung heavily from every twig and soon soaked him worse than ever.