The Keepers of the Trail Part 18

"I know it, but this is a time when you'll have to resist."

"I ain't so sh.o.r.e. I notice that them that want things pow'ful bad an'

go after 'em pow'ful hard are most always them that gits 'em, an' that's me tonight."

"Well, lie close, and we'll see what happens, there's Wyatt within reach of my rifle right now, and it's a strong temptation to put a bullet into him. The temptation is just as strong in me, Sol, as it has been in you."

"Then why don't you do it an' take the chances? We kin git away anyhow."

"For several reasons, Sol. I doubt whether we could get away, and escape is important not only to ourselves--I like my life and you like yours--but to others as well. Besides, I can't draw trigger on Braxton Wyatt from cover. Cruel as he is, and he's worse than the savages, because he's a renegade, I can't forget that we were boys at Wareville together."

"Still your bullet, most likely, would save the life o' many a man an'

o' women an' children too. But it's too late anyhow. He's gone, an' them warriors hev gone with him. By the great horn spoon, what wuz that!"

They had now gone to the extreme eastern edge of their little covert and a sudden floundering and gasping there startled them. A large black figure rose up from a dense thicket of alders, pawpaws and small willows and gazed at them a moment or two with frightened red eyes.

"A bear," exclaimed Shif'less Sol. "Oh, Henry, let me shoot! I kin see his steaks fryin' over the coals now. Thar's our supper, settin' on its hind legs not ten feet from us."

"Don't you dare do such a thing!" exclaimed Henry, laughing. "Why, your shot would bring a whole tribe of Indians down upon us!"

"I know it, but I do want that bear, an' I want to put the responsibility o' not gittin' him on you."

"All right. I take it. There he goes and your chance, too, is lost."

The bear threshed out of his den, clattered across the mud flats and entered the forest, whence came in a minute the sound of a shot.

"Thar, the warriors hev got him!" exclaimed Shif'less Sol, deep disappointment showing in his tone, "and in two or three hours they'll be cookin' him. An' he was our bear, too. We saw him first. I could see that he was nice an' fat, even ef it wuz early in the year, an' them steaks belong to us."

"Maybe they did, but we've lost 'em. Now, I think we'd better keep quiet. The Indians are probably far ahead of us, thinking that we've gone that way."

The shiftless one subsided into an indignant silence. The oasis was an ideal place for two situated as they were, and having the wisdom of the woods they remained still and quiet in its cover. But after three or four hours the shiftless one became restless. He was a man of great strength, and despite his lazy manner, of wonderful bodily activity. It took much food to satisfy the demands of that powerful frame, and he was growing hungrier and hungrier. Moreover a light wind began to blow from the west, bringing upon its edge a faint aroma that caused him to sit up and sniff inquiringly. The odor grew stronger, and he no longer had need to ask questions with his nose. He knew, and he knew too well.

"Henry," he said, "thar's our bear jest as I expected. They're cookin'

him, an' it's not so fur away either!"

"I think you're right, but we can't help it. We have to be resigned."

"Mebbe we can't help it, an' then ag'in mebbe we kin, but anyway I ain't goin' to be resigned. I'm protestin' all the time, 'cause it's my bear.

I saw him first."

The savory odor grew stronger, and the anger and indignation of the shiftless one increased. And with these two emotions came a third which hardened into a resolution.

"Henry," he said, "you're our leader, an' we most always do what you say, but this time I reckon I've decided fur myself what I'm goin' to do. I'm growin' hungrier an' hungrier. Sometimes I put that hunger down but in a minute it bounces back up ag'in stronger than ever. It's my master, gittin' control over ev'ry inch o' me, an' I've got to listen to what it says. I know I'm makin' a long speech, talkin' like an Injun chief at a council, but I've got to explain an' make clear ez day why I'm goin' to do the thing I'm goin' to do."

"Go on, Sol. Talk as much as you please. We've all night before us."

"Which is good. Ez I said, hunger has laid hold o' ev'ry inch o' me, an'

is workin' mighty fast. When I git into that state I'm plum' distracted on the question o' food, though it makes me smarter an' more keerful than ever on the ways to git it. I jest wanted to tell you, Henry, that I'm goin' to leave this oasis an' come back with a load o' them bear steaks that rightfully belong to me."

"Have you lost your mind, Sol? You'd be killed and scalped in an hour!"

"I knowed you'd say that. That's the reason I come around to it gradual like, an' in a circle, but Henry, it ain't no use talkin'. I'm goin'. My mind is clean made up. Besides, I won't be scalped an' I won't be killed. Jest you lay down an' afore long I'll be back here with my property."

Henry saw that it was no use to argue. The mind of the shiftless one was made up, and occasionally he could be as resolute as Henry himself.

"If you're bound to go I can't help it," Henry said. "I don't know your plan of action, and I won't ask it, but if you don't come back I'll feel pretty bad, Sol."

"But I'll come back. That's sh.o.r.e. The night has jest this minute turned darker, which is a sign. Darkness is what I need, an' it tells me that I'm goin' to git through."

Henry saw his comrade depart with keen regret. He did not look upon him as lost, because his skill was great. But so was the danger, and he thought the risk was out of proportion to the purpose. But there was nothing more for him to say and he watched the shiftless one as he left the oasis, glided over the mud flat and disappeared in the forest to the west.

Then came a long and painful wait. Twice he heard the warriors, through the medium of the wolf's howl, calling to one another, but he did not believe the cries had any bearing upon the adventure of Shif'less Sol.

Then he heard a faint chorus of yells in the western forest, whence his comrade had gone, and he knew that something had happened. He was filled with apprehension, but he could do nothing, except to lie still in the covert.

The yell was not repeated, but he intently watched the edge of the forest on all sides except the west. After a while he saw the faint figure of a man, scarcely a tracery, appear in the north, and then come skipping like a swift shadow across the flat. His heart did not rise merely, but took a sudden jump upward. It was the shiftless one returning to their lair, and doubtless in triumph.

He had not time to think much about it before Shif'less Sol was on the oasis, crouched among the bushes, laughing low, but in a tone that was fairly redolent of triumph.

"I done done it, Henry!" he exulted. "I done done it!"

He held up the hind quarter of a bear that had been cooked to a turn over a bed of coals.

"I haven't tasted it yet," he said, "but jest smell it! Did sech an odor ever afore tickle your nose? Did your mouth ever afore water so much?

Here, Henry, fall on!"

He took out his knife, cut off a big piece and handed it to Henry, who began to eat eagerly. Then the shiftless one fell to in like fashion.

"How did you manage it?" he asked.

The shiftless one grinned.

"Didn't I tell you that the sudden darkness wuz a sign favorin' me?" he said. "Paul is always tellin' about them old Greeks an' Romans not goin'

into battle till they had talked with the omens, mostly the insides o'

cows an' sheep. I believe in signs too. Mine wuz a lot better, an' it worked. I found that they hed jest finished roastin' the bear on the coals, after hevin' dressed him an' cut him into four quarters. 'Pears that most o' 'em hed gone deeper into the woods to look fur somethin'. I come close up in the bushes, an' began a terrible snarlin' an' yelpin'

like a hull pack o' wolves. The three that wuz left, the cooks, took torches from the fire, an' run in after me. But I hed flew like lightnin' 'roun' to the other side, jumped in, grabbed up one o' the quarters by the leg, an' wuz away afore they could fairly see what had happened, an' who had made it happen. Then they set up one yell, which I guess you heard, but I kept on flyin' through the woods to the north, curved about, came over the mud flats whar no trail kin last a minute, an' here I am with our bear, or ez much of it ez we want o' him."

"You've done a great deed, Sol. I didn't think you could go through with it, but you have, and this bear is mighty fine."

"He wuz ourn, an' I wuz bound to hev a part o' him."

"We'll put the rest in our knapsacks and there ought to be enough for two days more. It relieves us of a great anxiety, because we couldn't go without food, and we really needed it badly."

"I'm feelin' like two men already. I wonder what the boys are doin' up thar in the holler? A-layin' 'roun' on the stone floor, I s'pose, eatin', drinkin' cold water, an' hevin' a good time."

"But remember their anxiety about us."

"I do. They sh.o.r.ely must hev worried a lot, seein' that we've been gone so long a time. Them are three fine fellers, Henry, Paul with all his learnin' an' his quiet ways, an' Long Jim, with whom I like so pow'ful well to argy an' who likes so pow'ful well to argy with me, ez good a feller ez ever breathed, an' Tom Ross, who don't talk none, givin' all his time to me, but who knows such a tremenjeous lot. We've got to git back to 'em soon, Henry."

Henry agreed with him, and then, having eaten heartily they took turn and turn in sleeping. Their clothing had dried on them, but their blankets had escaped a wetting entirely, and they were able to make themselves comfortable.