A Waif of the Mountains

But Ruggles and the captain did not deem such a thing credible. A whole tribe of red men could not have loosened so enormous a mass of stone, while, if poised as delicately as it must have been, they would have known nothing of the fact. Sometimes an immense oak, sound and apparently as firm as any in the forest around it, suddenly plunges downward and crashes to the earth, from no imaginable cause. So, vast masses of rock on the mountain side which have held their places for centuries, seem to leap from their foundations and tear their way with resistless force into the valley below. This was probably one of those accidental displacements, liable to occur at any hour of the day or night, which had come so startlingly near crushing the three men to death.

Captain Dawson drew a match from his pocket and scraping it along his thigh, held it to the face of his watch.

“Just midnight and we are not more than half a dozen miles from home.”

“And how far do you suppose they are?” asked the parson.

“Probably five times as much, if not more.”

“But they will not travel at night, and by sunrise we ought to be considerably nearer to them than now.”

“You can’t be certain about that. Lieutenant Russell knows me too well to loiter on the road; he has a good horse and the pony of Nellie is a tough animal; both will be urged to the utmost; for they must be sure the pursuit will be a hard one.”

The discomforting fact in the situation was that if the fugitives, as they may be considered, pushed their flight with vigor, there was no reason why they should not prevent any lessening of the distance between them and their pursuers, and since they would naturally fear pursuit, it was to be expected that they would use all haste. The hope was that on account of Nellie, the animals would not keep up the flight for so many hours out of the twenty-four, as the pursuers would maintain it.

The trail steadily ascended and became so rough and uneven that the horses frequently stumbled. This made their progress slow and compelled the three men, despite themselves, to feel the prudence of resting until daylight, but not one of them wished to do so, since the night pursuit was the only phase of the business which brought with it the belief that they were really lessening the distance separating them from the two in advance.

Eager as the couple were to get through the mountains and reach Sacramento, where for the first time they could feel safe from their pursuers, the young officer was too wise to incur the risk of breaking down their horses, for such a mishap would be a most serious one indeed, and fraught with fatal consequences.

There was little fear of the pursuers going astray. Captain Dawson had an extraordinary memory for places, as he repeatedly proved by recalling some landmark that he had noticed on his previous trip. Furthermore, the gorge was so narrow that in a certain sense, it may be said, they were fenced in, and would have found it hard to wander to the right or left, had they made the effort.

After an hour of steady climbing they reached an altitude which brought with it a sharp change of temperature. The air became so chilly that Ruggles and Brush flung their blankets about their shoulders and found the protection added to their comfort. The horses, too, began to show the effects of their severe exertion. Their long rest had rendered them somewhat “soft,” though the hardening would be rapid. After a few days’ work they would not mind such exertion as that to which they were now forced.

When a sort of amphitheatre was reached, it was decided to draw rein for a brief while, out of sympathy for their panting animals.

“I thought if we failed to find our horses,” remarked the parson, “we wouldn’t find it hard to keep up the pursuit on foot; I have changed my mind.”

He looked back over the sloping trail, which speedily vanished in the gloom and the eyes of the other two were turned in the same direction. At the moment of doing so, the animals again became frightened, so that, despite their fatigue, it was hard to restrain them.

“There’s something down there,” remarked the captain slipping from his saddle; “Wade, you are the nearest, can you see anything?”

Ruggles was out of the saddle in an instant, Winchester in hand.

“I catched sight of something,” he said in an undertone; “look after my horse, while I find out what it is.”

“Have a care,” cautioned the parson; “it may be an Indian.”

“That’s what I think it is,” replied Ruggles, who instantly started down the trail rifle in hand, his posture a crouching one and his senses strung to the highest point.

He passed from view almost on the instant, and his companions listened with intense anxiety for what was to follow. Suddenly the sharp crack of their friend’s rifle rang out in the solemn stillness, the report echoing again and again through the gorge, with an effect that was startling even to such experienced men. It was the only sound that came to them, and, while they were wondering what it meant, Ruggles reappeared among them with the noiselessness of a shadow.

“It was a bear,” he explained; “I think he scented the animals and was follering on the lookout for a chance at ’em.”

“Did you kill him?”

“Don’t think I did; he must have heard me comin’ and was scared; he went down the trail faster than I could; when I seen that I couldn’t catch him, I let fly without taking much aim. Maybe I hit him; leastways, he traveled so much faster that I give it up and come back.”

The party lingered for half an hour more, but as the horses showed no further fear, they concluded that bruin had taken to heart the lesson he received and would bother them no further.

The mountains still towered on every hand. The stream had long since disappeared among the rocks and the gorge had become narrower. Generally it was no more than a dozen feet in width, occasionally expanding to two or three times that extent. The moon had moved over so far that only its faint reflection against the dark walls and masses of rock availed the horsemen. The sky seemed to contain an increasing number of clouds and there were indications of a storm, which might not break for a day or two, and as likely as not would not break at all.

The traveling, despite its difficulty, was comparatively safe. The trail did not lead along the sides of precipices, with a climbing wall on one side and a continuous descent on the other, but it was solid and extended across from one ridge to the other. Because of this fact the three pushed their animals hard, knowing that it would not be long before they would have to be favored.

“I don’t know whether we are wise to keep this up as we are doing,” said the captain, “but I know there are few places where we can travel in the darkness and I feel like making the most of them.”

“It is only a question of what the horses are able to stand,” replied Brush; “it is easy enough for us to ride, but a very different thing for them to carry us. We must guard against their breaking down.”

“I will look out for that, but it is strange that when we were making ready to start we forgot one important matter.”

“What was that?”

“We did not bring a mouthful of food.”

“We shall have little trouble in shooting what game we need.”

“Perhaps not and perhaps we shall. The lieutenant and I found on our way from Sacramento that, although game appeared to be plenty, it had an exasperating habit of keeping out of range when we particularly needed it. Delay will be necessary to get food, and the reports of our guns are likely to give warning, just when it is dangerous.”

“It was a bad slip,” assented the parson; “for there was plenty of meat and bread at home; but we shall have to stop now and then to rest our animals and to allow them to feed and we can utilize such intervals by getting something for ourselves in the same line.”

“It isn’t that, so much as the risk of apprising the two of their danger. In addition, it will be strange if we get through the mountains without a fight with the Indians. According to my recollection, we shall strike a region to-morrow or on the next day, where there will be the mischief to pay.”

Two miles more of laborious work and another halt. For the first time Parson Brush showed excitement.

“Do you know,” he said, “that some one is following us? There may be several, but I am sure of one at least and he is on a horse.”

CHAPTER XVIII

A CLOSE CALL

Few situations are more trying than that of being followed at night by what we suspect is an enemy. The furtive glances to the rear show the foe too indistinctly for us to recognize him, and the imagination pictures the swift, stealthy attack and the treacherous blow against which it is impossible to guard.

There was little of this dread, however, in the case of our friends, for they felt strong enough to take care of themselves. Moreover, all three formed an instant suspicion of the identity of the man.

It was Felix Brush at the rear who first heard the faint footfalls, and, peering into the gloom, saw the outlines of a man and beast a few rods distant, coming steadily up the trail in the same direction with himself. A few minutes later the halt was made and all eyes were turned toward the point whence the man was approaching. He must have noticed the stoppage, but he came straight on until he joined the group.

“Howdy, pards,” was his greeting.

“I thought it was you, Vose,” said the captain, sharply; “what do you mean by following us?”

“What right have you to get in front of me? Don’t I have to make a trip to Sacramento three or four times each year?”

“But you are not accustomed to start in the night time.”

“And I never knowed it was your custom to leave New Constantinople in the middle of the night; leastways I never knowed you to do it afore.”

“We have important business,” added the captain brusquely, uncertain as yet whether he ought to be displeased or angered by the intrusion of Adams.

“So have I.”