A Waif of the Mountains

The others studied them with as much interest as if it were the first time they had been seen. If the couple had taken refuge among the caverns and crevices of this immense pile of stone, they must have left their animals on the ground below where they could be readily discovered.

“We may as well have a look,” remarked the captain; “what do you think, Vose?”

“I don’t think anything; don’t ask me any questions.”

He never looked more angry. He had not forgotten the slur of the captain and had spirit enough to resent it. Dawson was too proud to apologize and he could not do so, when his suspicion of the fellow’s loyalty was as strong as ever. On the contrary, having made his blunder, the officer drove the arrow home.

“I am sorry you didn’t take that resolution in the first place; it would have been better for all of us, though not so good for those we are looking for.”

The captain and Ruggles now turned to the right, while the other two took the opposite direction. They were thus enabled, after more hard work, practically to pass around the mass of rocks, returning to their starting point, without having discovered any traces of man, woman or their animals. On the journey, Adams and the parson exchanged few words, but it was different with the other couple.

“What do you think of his long absence yesterday?” asked the captain.

“It has a bad look,–worse than I thought when he come back.”

“Why so?”

“I take it with the action of that dog. You didn’t fail to notice that Timon took us along the exact route that Vose was leadin’ us over and we found out that it was the wrong one.”

“And you believe he purposely misled us?”

“It’s almost sartin.”

“Suppose it was certain, Wade?”

“I’d shoot him quicker’n lightning.”

“So would I.”

“But you see we can’t be sartin just yit; if Vose is in that kind of bus’ness, he’ll give himself away purty soon.”

“I agree with you and we’ll watch him.”

Thus was the momentous bargain made.

When the four came together once more, the parson remarked:

“It’s my belief that after we were well out of the way, the two went down the gorge to the main trail and are now making haste to Sacramento.”

The exact line of action that had been agreed upon! Vose Adams was firmly convinced that this was the very thing that had taken place and the utmost he could do was to prevent the horsemen from acting on that theory until the fugitives were given opportunity to pass beyond reach.

Except for the words of Captain Dawson, the guide would have striven to delay the pursuit, but he dared not attempt it after the warning. Ignoring the captain, he said to Felix Brush:

“It’s more’n likely you’re right, parson; that would have been the most nat’ral thing for them to do and it’s no use of our standing here and talking, when every minute counts.”

“We can quickly learn the truth; it isn’t far to the gorge, where they must have left traces; leave the horses here, for we can soon return for them if it proves necessary.”

Forgetting their fatigue, the four walked back over their own trail. The forenoon was well advanced, and, by this time, the fugitives were probably a good way off. Adams was relieved because of this action, for it promised more delay.

Reaching the beginning of the gorge, all began an examination of the ground, for the imprints of the horses’ feet were plainly seen. To the amazement of every one, each hoof pointed upward, that is away from the cañon. There was no evidence that any quadruped had descended the slope. All had gone up. Vose Adams was in despair.

“They have let their only chance go by,” he bitterly reflected; “it’s too late now to save them!”

CHAPTER XXVI

AT BAY

Lieutenant Russell held a long consultation with Nellie Dawson, after the departure of Vose Adams. His first intention had been to press their flight with all possible vigor, and, as will be recalled, Adams carried away that belief with him.

“My view of matters has undergone a change,” he said after a time to his companion, who looked up in his face for an explanation.

“Instead of waiting until we reach Sacramento for a meeting with your father, I believe it will be much better to have it as soon as possible.”

“Why?” she asked, though curious to say, she had been wavering for some time in her belief.

“It will add to rather than lessen his anger, if he is obliged to follow us that far, and the fact that he is in a city instead of the mountains will not decrease his determination to do me injury.”

“What about those who are with him?”

“Your father is the only one to be considered. My proposal is that we wait here till to-morrow morning until they come up; what is your opinion?”

“I believe you are right; let us do so; I don’t think father will cast me off when I go to him.”

The plan was carried out, though the young man felt more misgiving than his companion suspected. He remained on guard a part of the night, sharing the duty with Timon, whose almost human intelligence made him as reliable as a trained scout himself.

Straight to the spot came the pursuers soon after daylight, when the horses were saddled and bridled. Nellie was in a state of feverish expectancy. When she caught sight of her father, leading the others, she joyfully uttered his name and ran toward him with outstretched arms.

“Father, my own father, are you not glad to see your Nellie?”

Still holding his Winchester half-raised, he glanced sternly at her and replied:

“Come no nearer; you are no daughter of mine!”

She stopped as if shot, and with hands still outstretched stood motionless, with her eyes fixed yearningly upon him. She was like a marble statue, without the breath of life in her body. All were silent. Even Timon looked from one to another without moving. The whole thing was beyond his comprehension.

Then the dreadful truth seemed to force itself upon the consciousness of the girl, who staggered backward to the nearest boulder, upon which she sank and covered her face with her hands. She did not weep, for her grief was too deep.

And who shall picture the sorrow that wrenched the heart strings of the parent? There was a strange look on his face and his massive frame trembled. But he quickly recovered his self-poise, and looking away from his child, fixed his eyes upon Lieutenant Russell.

“It is with you that I have to settle.”

“I am ready.”

The young officer was standing beside his pony, with one arm resting on the saddle, across which his rifle was supported, while the other hand lay idly on his hip, and his body was borne upon one foot. His pose was one of negligence, as if he and his animal had taken position before the camera, and the world contained no such thing as hatred and enmity. He looked calmly into the angered countenance, while he waited for the next words of the man who was impatient to send a bullet through his heart.

Wade Ruggles and Felix Brush would have been glad of the privilege of doing this, but they felt that for the time they were out of it. The right of calling Lieutenant Russell to account lay with the father of Nellie. They had nothing to do or say until that tragedy was ended, and they stood apart, silent, grim and watchful of everything.

The coolness of the young man disconcerted the captain for the moment. Feeling it unnecessary to hold his weapon, he lowered the point, but, never once removing his eyes from the face of the other, said: