A Waif of the Mountains

“What is it?”

“Your good.”

“I don’t understand you; explain yourself.”

“There ain’t one of you three that knows the way through the mountains, and if you undertook it alone, it would take you three months to reach Sacramento.”

This was a new and striking view of the situation, but the parson said:

“Each of us has been over it before.”

“Sartinly, but one trip nor half a dozen ain’t enough. You lost your way the first hour in Dead Man’s Gulch; if you hadn’t done so, it would have took me a blamed sight longer to find you; there are half a dozen other places in the mountains ten times worse than the one where you flew the track. Howsumever, if you don’t want me, I’ll go back.”

And Vose Adams, as if his dignity had received a mortal hurt, began turning his mule around.

“Hold on,” interposed Captain Dawson; “you have put things in their true light; we are very glad to have you with us.”

“That makes it all right,” was the cheery response of the good natured Vose; “I never like to push myself where I ain’t wanted, but as you seem glad to see me, after having the thing explained, we won’t say nothing more about it. Howsumever, I may add that I obsarved you started in such a hurry that I thought it warn’t likely you fetched any vittles with you, so I made up a lunch and brought it with me, being as you may not always have time to spare to shoot game.”

The chilliness of Vose Adams’ greeting changed to the warmest welcome. He had shown more thoughtfulness than any of them, and his knowledge of the perilous route through the mountains was beyond value. Indeed, it looked as if it was to prove the deciding factor in the problem.

“Do you know our business, Vose?” asked the captain.

“I knowed it the minute I seen you sneaking off like shadows toward the trail. I hurried to my cabin, got a lot of cold meat and bread together and then hunted up Hercules, my boss mule. He isn’t very handsome, but he has a fine voice and has been through these mountains so many times that he knows the right road as well as me. I knowed you would travel fast and didn’t expect to overhaul you afore morning, but you went past the right turn and that give me a chance to catch up sooner.”

“But how was it you suspected our errand?” persisted the captain.

“How could I help it? What else could it be? I seen the miss and the leftenant start for Sacramento, and being as you took the same course it was plain that you was going there too, if you didn’t overtake ’em first.”

“You saw them start!” thundered the father of Nellie Dawson; “why didn’t you hurry off to me with the news?”

“Why should I hurry off to you with the news?” coolly asked Vose Adams; “it wasn’t the first time I had seen the two ride in that direction; sometimes she was with you, or with the parson or Ruggles, and once or twice with me. Would you have thought there was anything wrong if you had seen them?”

“No, I suppose not,” replied the captain, seeing the injustice of his words; “but I have been so wrought up by what has occurred that I can hardly think clearly. I ask your pardon for my hasty words.”

“You needn’t do that, for I see how bad you feel and I’m sorry for you.”

“When was it they left?”

“Early this afternoon.”

“There was no one with them of course?”

“Nobody except that big dog they call Timon; he was frolicking ’round the horses, as if he enjoyed it as much as them.”

Every atom of news was painful, and yet the afflicted father could not restrain himself from asking questions of no importance.

“About what hour do you think it was when they left?”

“It must have been near two o’clock when the leftenant fetched up his horse and the pony belonging to the young lady. She must have been expectin’ him, for she come right out of the house, without keeping him waitin’ a minute. He helped her into the saddle, while they talked and laughed as happy as could be.”

This was wormwood and gall to the parent, but he did not spare himself.

“Did you overhear anything said by them?”

“I wouldn’t have considered it proper to listen, even if they hadn’t been so far off I couldn’t catch a word that passed atween ’em.”

“Was there anything in their actions to show they intended to take a longer ride than usual?”

“I don’t see how there could be,” replied the puzzled Adams, while Parson Brush, understanding what the distraught captain meant, explained:

“Was there anything in their appearance which suggested that they meant to take anything more than an ordinary gallop?”

“I didn’t think of it at the time, but I can see now there was. Each of them had what seemed to be extra clothing and perhaps they had food, though I couldn’t make sure of that. You know there has been something in the sky that looked like a coming storm, and I thought it was on that account that the clothing was took along. Then, as the leftenant had knocked off work, it might be he was not feeling very well.”

“The scoundrel made that very excuse for leaving me,” bitterly commented Captain Dawson, “but he wouldn’t have taken the clothing as part of the same design for there was no need of anything of the kind. They laid their plans carefully and everything joined to make it as easy as possible.”

“Your thoughts were precisely what ours would have been,” said the parson, drawn toward the messenger unjustly accused by the captain in the tumult of his grief;“ if we had seen the two start, we should have believed it was for one of the usual gallops which the young lady is so fond of taking; but, Vose, if we would have certainly gone astray in the mountains, without your guidance, how will it be with them, when she has never been over the trail and he has ridden over it but once?“

“They are sure to have a tough time of it which will make it all the harder for us.”

“How is that?”

“Some good luck may lead them right; more than likely, howsumever, they’ll get all wrong; therefore, if we stick to the path we may pass ’em a half dozen times. You see it’s the blamed onsartinty of the whole bus’ness.”

“I would not question your wisdom on such matters, Vose, but when I remember that each of them is riding a horse, and that the two must leave traces behind them, I cannot apprehend that we shall go very far astray in our pursuit. The most likely trouble as it seems to me is that they will travel so fast that it will be almost impossible to overtake them.”

“If they can manage to keep to the trail, it is going to be hard work to come up with them. You haven’t forgot that when I’m pushing through the mountains I sometimes have to hunt a new trail altogether.”

“That is due to the trouble with Indians?”

“Precisely; sometimes it’s a long, roundabout course that I have to take, which may keep me off the main course for a couple of days, or it may be for only a part of the day, but Injins is something that you must count on every time.”

“And they are as likely to meet them as we?”

“More so, ’cause they’re just ahead of you. Oh, it was the biggest piece of tomfoolery ever heard of for them to start on such a journey, but what are you to expect of two young persons dead in love with each other?”

This was not the kind of talk that was pleasing to the father, and he became morosely silent. It was equally repugnant to Ruggles and the parson to hear Nellie Dawson referred to as being in love with the execrated officer. Ruggles was grim and mute, and the parson deftly drew the conversation in another direction.

“I would like to ask you, Vose, how it was that Lieutenant Russell did not take the other horses with him, so as to make it impossible for anything in the nature of pursuit?”

“There might be two reasons; he may have thought it would be mean to hit you below the belt like that; he was too honorable–”

“It warn’t anything like that,” fiercely interrupted Ruggles.

“Then it must have been that if he had took all the animals with him, even though they was a considerable way down the gulch, the thing would have been noticed by others, who would have wanted to know what it meant.”

“No doubt you have struck the right reason. Had the start been in the night time, he would have made sure that not even the mules were left for us. But, Vose,” added the parson gravely, “we would be much better pleased if when you referred to the lieutenant, you said nothing about ‘honor.’”