Part 33 (1/2)

”Well, to make a long yarn short, I joined Hunky and allowed him to lead, seein' that he understands the navigation hereaway better than me.

”`Come along,' says he, `an' I'll let you have a chance at a deer.'

”`All right,' says I, an' away we went up one hill an' down another--for all the world as if we was walkin' over a heavy Atlantic swell--till we come to a sort o' pa.s.s among the rocks.

”`I'm goin' to leave you here to watch,' says he, `an' I'll go round by the futt o' the gully an' drive the deer up. They'll pa.s.s quite close, so you've only to--'

”Hunky stopped short as he was speakin' and flopped down as if he'd bin shot-haulin' me along wi' him.

”`Keep quiet,' says he, in a low voice. `We're in luck, an' don't need to drive. There's a deer comin' up at this very minute--a young one.

You'll take it. I won't fire unless you miss.'

”You may be sure I kep' quiet, messmates, arter that. I took just one peep, an' there, sure enough, I saw a brown beast comin' up the pa.s.s.

So we kep' close as mice. There was a lot o' small bushes not ten yards in front of us, which ended in a cut--a sort o' crack--in the hill-side, a hundred yards or more from the place where we was crouchin'.

”`Now,' whispers Hunky to--”

”I never whisper!” remarked the scout.

”Well, well; he said, in a low v'ice to me, says he, `d'ye see that openin' in the bushes?' `I do,' says I. `Well then,' says he, `it's about ten yards off; be ready to commence firin' when it comes to that openin'.' `I will,' says I. An', sure enough, when the brown critter came for'id at a walk an' stopped sudden wi' a look o' surprise as if it hadn't expected to see me, bang went my Winchester four times, like winkin', an' up went the deer four times in the air, but niver a bit the worse was he. Snap I went a fifth time; but there was no shot, an' I gave a yell, for I knew the cartridges was done. By that time the critter had reached the crack in the hill I told ye of, an' up in the air he went to clear it, like an Indy-rubber ball. I felt a'most like to fling my rifle at it in my rage, when bang! went a shot at my ear that all but deaf'ned me, an' I wish I may niver fire another shot or furl another t'gallant-s'l if that deer didn't crumple up in the air an'

drop down stone dead--as dead as it now lays there on the floor.”

By the time d.i.c.k Darvall had ended his narrative--which was much more extensive than our report of it--steaks of the deer were sputtering in a frying-pan, and other preparations were being made for a hearty meal, to which all the healthy men did ample justice. Shank Leather did what he could, and even Buck Tom made a feeble attempt to join.

That night a strict watch was kept outside the cave--each taking it by turns, for it was just possible, though not probable, that the outlaws might return to their old haunt. No one appeared, however, and for the succeeding eight weeks the party remained there undisturbed, Shank Leather slowly but surely regaining strength; his friend, Buck Tom, as slowly and surely losing it; while Charlie, d.i.c.k, and Hunky Ben ranged the neighbouring forest in order to procure food. Leather usually remained in the cave to cook for and nurse his friend. It was pleasant work to Shank, for love and pity were at the foundation of the service.

Buck Tom perceived this and fully appreciated it. Perchance he obtained some valuable light on spiritual subjects from Shank's changed tone and manner, which the logic of his friend Brooke had failed to convey. Who can tell?

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

SHOWS HOW THE SEAMAN WAS SENT ON A DELICATE MISSION AND HOW HE FARED.

”Shank,” said Charlie one day as they were sitting in the suns.h.i.+ne near the outlaws' cave, waiting for d.i.c.k and the scout to return to their mid-day meal, ”it seems to me that we may be detained a good while here, for we cannot leave Ralph, and it is evident that the poor fellow won't be able to travel for many a day--”

”If ever,” interposed Shank sorrowfully.

”Well, then, I think we must send down to Bull's Ranch, to see if there are any letters for us. I feel sure that there must be some, and the question arises--who are we to send?”

”_You_ must not go, Charlie, whoever goes. You are the only link in this mighty wilderness, that connects Ralph and me with home--and hope.

Weak and helpless as we are, we cannot afford to let you out of our sight.”

”Well, but if I don't go I can't see my way to asking the scout to go, for he alone thoroughly understands the ways of the country and of the Indians--if any should chance to come this way. Besides, considering the pledge he is under to be accountable for Buck Tom, I doubt if he would consent to go.”

”The question is answered, then,” said Shank, ”for the only other man is d.i.c.k Darvall.”

”True; and it strikes me that d.i.c.k will be very glad to go,” returned Charlie with a smile of peculiar meaning.

”D'ye think he's getting tired of us, Charlie?”