The Wild Man of the West Part 31

"No, no; com! Me git you spear, hatchet very quick; but com."

So saying, she dragged rather than conducted March to the little opening which led into her dormitory. He had to stoop on entering; and great was his amazement on finding himself on the brink of a black yawning gulf, that seemed to descend into the bowels of the earth. The end of a narrow plank rested on the edge of this gulf, and appeared to bridge it over, but the other end of the plank, and all beyond, were lost in impenetrable darkness.

"Com after me," said Mary, pa.s.sing rapidly across the gulf, and disappearing--absolutely like a vision.

March hesitated. He tried to steady his somewhat giddy head, but the single word "Com" issuing from darkness in a very commanding tone settled the point. He staggered across, held out his hands, and almost tumbled over his fair guide, on reaching the other end of the plank much sooner than he had expected.

"Now, wait. I will com agin," said Mary, recrossing.

The view back was a very different thing from the view forward. As he stood there, on the brink of the yawning gulf, March could see right through into the cavern he had just left, and could observe everything that took place there. Mary hastily loaded herself with a rifle and the blunderbuss, also with powder-horn, bullet-pouch, and a bag containing buffalo tongues. With these she returned quickly, and, brushing past her companion, carried them farther into the cave.

"Now, help me pull," she said, laying hold of the end of the plank.

March obeyed; and obedience cost him much, poor fellow, for it seemed as if, in the act, he had rent asunder every muscle in his right shoulder.

The plank being thus drawn away, an impa.s.sable gulf was left between the inner and middle cavern, which, even in the event of its being discovered, presented no particular temptation to induce any one to explore farther. Mary drew the plank into the long natural pa.s.sage which led to her private apartment; and as this pa.s.sage turned abruptly to the right, there was no possibility of any one on the other side of the gulf being able to see into it. Indeed, a light in it was not visible from that point of view, and their voices could not be heard unless they spoke loudly.

Just as the plank was withdrawn, the Indians discovered the mouth of the cavern, and in a few minutes the two watchers beheld a painted savage peep in at the opening of the centre cave. Seeing that it was empty, and observing at a glance the opening into the inner cave, he drew back quickly. A minute after, the four Indians darted across, and got out of range of that opening--evidently fearing that some one was there. They flitted past so quickly, yet noiselessly, that they appeared more like shadows than real men.

Presently one of them stepped full in front of the opening with a bow and arrow in his hand. The light of the fire was strong. March saw him raise the bow, and had just time to draw back when an arrow whizzed past him, and was broken to pieces on the rock behind his back. Instantly after the echoes of the place burst forth as a shot was fired in the same direction. Having thus made sure that the way was clear, the boldest of the savages entered with a blazing pine-knot held high above his head--the others following with bows ready, and arrows fitted to the string.

On reaching the edge of the yawning chasm, the foremost savage held the torch over it, and they all gazed in silence into its unfathomable depths. Satisfied that it was impa.s.sable, they consulted for a few minutes, and then, apparently coming to the conclusion that the place was untenanted, they returned to the middle cave, and began to rummage and toss about the things they found there.

"Bring the rifle," whispered March. "I can floor two at a shot as they now sit."

"No," Mary replied firmly. "Why make blood? They will go 'way soon."

Mary was right; but a circ.u.mstance occurred which caused them to go away sooner than either she or they had antic.i.p.ated.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

A GALLOP TO THE RESCUE--A DISCOVERY--RIGHT-ABOUT FACE--A DISAGREEABLE SURPRISE AND A SUDDEN EJECTION--A CALM AFTER THE STORM--MARY A HUNTRESS--d.i.c.k'S STORY OF THE MURDERED TRAPPER.

When d.i.c.k, _alias_ the Wild Man of the West, left his cave, as narrated in a previous chapter, and galloped away with reckless speed to afford the aid of his stout right arm to his friends in the Mountain Fort--for he counted them friends, although they little knew it--he felt that if he was to be of any use he must travel over the country as he had never travelled before, except once, when he had to fly for his life before five hundred p.a.w.nee warriors.

It was a grand sight to behold that herculean backwoodsman on his n.o.ble steed, which seemed so well proportioned to its rider that it carried him as if he were but a boy, flying over the country on this brotherly errand. Mile after mile was pa.s.sed, not indeed at full speed, for that would have broken the good horse down long before the goal was reached, but at a bowling gallop, taking bogs, and rocks, and fallen trees, and watercourses, with an elastic bound that told of bone and muscle overflowing with surplus energy.

d.i.c.k patted the horse's arching neck with a look of pride and affection, and the animal tossed its head with a slight neigh of pleasure and a playful snap towards its rider's right foot; for it loved its master, as the lower animals do always love those who treat them well, and it loved a wild, long, careering gallop, for that was the only means by which it could relieve its feelings.

There was something unusually wild-like about this horse, besides its great size and extraordinarily long mane and tail. It carried its head high and its ears pointed forward, and it looked boldly from side to side, as it went springingly along, more like a human being than a horse. It actually appeared to be taking intelligent notice of things around it. So much so, that d.i.c.k had got into a habit of saying a word or two now and then to it in a grave tone, as if he were conversing with a friend.

"Ay, it's a fine country, isn't it?" he said, patting the neck again.

The ears were pointed backwards at once, and a little neigh or squeak, with a toss of the head, was the reply.

"Pity ye can't speak, an't it?" continued d.i.c.k in a low, quiet tone.

The horse appeared to know that this was merely a meditative remark, not pointedly addressed to itself for it only put back one ear and kept the other forward.

"Now, la.s.s," said d.i.c.k firmly (both ears went full back at that sound and remained there), "take it easy; don't exert yerself over much. It an't o' no use--a short pace or two, and--so."

The horse went full swing over a roaring watercourse as he spoke, and alighted safe on the opposite bank, but the gravelly soil was treacherous; it gave way, and the animal's hind legs slipped back. With a bound d.i.c.k sprang to the ground.

"Hyp, good horse," he cried, raising the rein.

A powerful effort, and footing was regained. d.i.c.k vaulted into the saddle (he seldom used the stirrup), and away they went again, blithe as ever. Then a long strip of tangled forest appeared. d.i.c.k diverged here. It was easier to skirt it than to crash through it. Presently a broad deep river came in view. There was no looking for a ford, no checking the pace. In they went with sounding plunge, as if water were their native element, breasted the foaming tide, and gaining the opposite bank, went steadily forward.

Thus on they sped, over hill and dale, all that night, for the moon was bright in a cloudless sky, and part of next day. Then d.i.c.k made a sudden halt and dismounted, to examine something on the ground.

Footprints of Indian horses--four of them--going in the direction of his dwelling!

d.i.c.k rose, and his strong brows were knitted, and his lips firmly pressed together. For a moment or two he pondered, then he told his horse to follow him, and, dropping the bridle, set off at a rapid walk, keeping steadily on the tracks, and stooping now and then to examine them when the nature of the ground rendered them less discernible. Thus he retraced his course for about a mile, when he stopped and muttered, "No doubt o't. Them reptiles niver come to these diggins but when they want to pay me a visit."

As he said this he remounted his horse and sat for a minute or two undecided. It was hard to give up his purpose; but it was impossible to leave his cavern defenceless with Mary in it, and the certainty that savages were hunting it out. That thought settled the matter. He shook the reins, and back they flew again towards the cave, at a much quicker pace than they had hitherto maintained.

The result was that d.i.c.k gained the entrance of his ravine just two hours later than the savages, and in time to superintend personally the hospitalities of his own dwelling. Riding quickly up to the head of the gorge, he dismounted and ascended the pathway to his cave with giant strides and a beating heart, for d.i.c.k thought of Mary, and the words "too late" _would_ whizz about in his brain.

The Indians were still sitting round the fire enjoying themselves when March and Mary, to their unutterable surprise, beheld d.i.c.k stride through the low doorway of the cave, raise himself to his full height, and stand before the stricken invaders, absolutely blazing with wrath.

His eyes, his hair, his beard, his glistening teeth, seemed each individually imbued with indignation.

The Indians did not move--they could not move--they simply sat and stared; and thus both parties continued for a quarter of a minute.

Mary used that short time well. She knew exactly what to do. Darting into her chamber, she seized the end of the rope connected with the tank and pulled it violently. March saw the rock above the fireplace drop!

A clear, sparkling cataract sprang as if by magic from the wall! Next instant there was black darkness and yells, steam, shrieks, and howls--a hissing, hurling hubbub, such as no man can possibly conceive of unless he has seen and heard it! We will not, therefore, even attempt a description.

The Indians rushed _en ma.s.se_ to the doorway. Death in the jaws of the Wild Man of the West was infinitely preferable to being parboiled and suffocated; but the Wild Man had judiciously made way for them. They gained the outer cave, and sprang down the pathway. d.i.c.k plied the handle of the shrieking-machine with the secondary object in view of relieving his own feelings! The din was indescribable! If those Indians are not lunatics at this moment they must be dead, for there could be no alternative in the circ.u.mstances. Certain it is they vanished like smoke, and they have never been heard of since--from that day to this!

Really, dear reader, if it were not that we are recounting the doings of a Wild Man--a notoriously eccentric creature--we would feel it necessary to impress upon you that such scenes as we have been describing are not characteristic of life in the Rocky Mountains; nay, more, we question whether such scenes as these have ever been witnessed or enacted in those regions at any time, with the exception, of course, of the present occasion. But it must be carefully borne in mind that we are recounting the deeds of a "Wild Man," and, although the aspect of outward things-- the general tone and current of manners and customs and natural phenomena--may remain exactly the same as heretofore, and be faithfully described without exaggeration (as we maintain they are), yet the acts, devices, and vagaries of such a creature as a Wild Man may, indeed must necessarily, be altogether eccentric and unparalleled. We therefore pause here to express a hope that, whatever credit you may be able to give to the reported deeds of this hero, you will not withhold your belief in the fidelity of the other portions of this narrative.

No sooner, then, were those unwelcome visitors ejected than d.i.c.k returned to the scene of devastation and shouted, "Hullo! Mary!"

"Safe, all safe," she replied, as, with the a.s.sistance of March Marston, she pushed the plank across the chasm, and returned to the centre cave.

"Is the lad March safe too?" inquired d.i.c.k as he busied himself in striking a light with flint and steel.

"All right," answered the youth for himself, "but horribly battered, an'

fit to yell with pain, not to mention surprise. Do look sharp and get the fire up. Sich doins' as this I never did see nor hear of since I left the frontier. I do declare it's worthy o' the Wild Man o' the West himself. What d'ye find to laugh at, d.i.c.k? I'm sure if ye had my miserable bones in yer body at this moment, ye'd laugh wi' your mouth screwed the wrong way. Look alive, man!"

"Patience, lad, patience. That's one o' the vartues, I believe; leastwise, so I'm told. Ah, it's caught at last. (Hand me that dry stuff on the south shelf, Mary; ye can find it i' the dark, I doubt not.) Yes, it's a vartue, but I can't boast o' having much o't myself.

I dun know much about it from 'xperience, d'ye see? There, now, we'll git things put to rights," he added, applying the kindled spark to some dry chips and producing a flame, with which he ignited a pine-knot, and stuck it blazing in a cleft in the rock. "Just see what them reptiles ha' done to me. If it wasn't that I'm a good-tempered feller, I b'lieve I'd git angry. See, March, boy, there's a shelf in the corner that's escaped the flood. Lie ye down there, while Mary and me puts the place in order."

"I'd rather help you," said March dismally. "I don't b'lieve it can make me worse, an' perhaps it'll make me better. I wonder what in the world pain was made for."

"Ye'll only be in our way, lad. Lie down," said d.i.c.k, seizing a large broom and beginning to sweep away the water and ashes and pieces of charcoal with which the floor was plentifully covered, while Mary picked up the scattered skins and furniture of the cave, and placed them on the ledge of rock, about four feet from the ground, which d.i.c.k termed a shelf.

This ledge ran all round the apartment, so March selected a corner, and, throwing a dry skin upon it, stretched himself thereon, and soon found his sufferings relieved to such an extent that he began to question his host as to his sudden and unlooked-for return.

"How came ye to drop in upon us in the very nick o' time like that?" he said, gazing languidly at Mary, who bustled about with the activity of a kitten--or, to use an expression more in keeping with the surrounding circ.u.mstances, a wild kitten.