Part 1 (2/2)

He cut out a huge slice with his bowie, sprinkled it over with salt, and began to devour it by very large mouthfuls. All hands proceeded to follow his example, and the noonday meal was dispatched in silence.

After each man had fully satisfied his appet.i.te and the mules and Fearless Frank's horse had grazed until they were full as ticks, the order was given to hitch up, which was speedily done, and the caravan was soon in motion, toiling along like a diminutive serpent across the plain.

The afternoon was a mild, sunny one in early autumn, with a refres.h.i.+ng breeze perfumed with the delicate scent of after-harvest flowers wafting down from the cool regions of the Northwest, where lay the new El Dorado--the land of gold.

Fearless Frank bestrode a n.o.ble bay steed of fire and nerve, while old General Nix rode an extra mule that he had purchased of Charity Joe.

The remainder of the company rode in the wagons or ”hoofed it,” as best suited their mood--walking sometimes being preferable to the rumbling and jolting of the heavy vehicles.

Steadily along through the afternoon sunlight the train wended its way, the teamsters alternately singing and cursing their mules, as they jogged along. Fearless Frank and the ”General” rode several hundred yards in advance, both apparently engrossed in deepest thought, for neither spoke until, toward the close of the afternoon, Charity Joe called their attention to a series of low, faint cries brought down upon their hearing by the stiff northerly wind.

”'Pears to me as how them sound sorter human like,” said the old guide, trotting along beside the young man's horse, as he made known the discovery. ”Jes' listen, now, an' see if ye ain't uv ther same opinion!”

The youth did listen, and at the same time swept the plain with his eagle eyes, in search of the object from which the cries emanated. But nothing of animal life was visible in any direction beyond the train, and more was the mystery, since the cries sounded but a little way off.

”They _are_ human cries!” exclaimed Fearless Frank, excitedly, ”and come from some one in distress. Boys, we must investigate this matter.”

”You can investigate all ye want,” grunted Charity Joe, ”but I hain't a-goin' ter stop ther train till dusk, squawk or no squawk. I jedge we won't get inter their Hills any too soon, as it ar'.”

”You're an old fool!” retorted Frank, contemptuously. ”I wouldn't be as mean as you for all the gold in the Black Hills country, say nothin' about that in California and Colorado.”

He turned his horse's head toward the north, and rode away, followed, to the wonder of all, by the ”General.”

”Ha! ha!” laughed Charity Joe, grimly, ”I wish you success.”

”You needn't; I do not want any of your wishes. I'm going to search for the person who makes them cries, an' ef you don't want to wait, why go to the deuce with your old train!”

”There ye err,” shouted the guide: ”I'm goin' ter Deadwood, instead uv ter the deuce.”

”_Maybe_ you will go to Deadwood, and then, again, maybe ye won't,”

answered back Fearless Frank.

”More or less!” chimed in the general--”consider'bly more of less than less of more. Look out thet ther allies uv Sittin' Bull don't git ther _dead wood_ on ye.”

On marched the train--steadily on over the level, sandy plain, and Fearless Frank and his strange companion turned their attention to the cries that had been the means of separating them from the train. They had ceased now, altogether, and the two men were at a loss what to do.

”Guv a whoop, like a Government Injun,” suggested ”General” Nix; ”an'

thet'll let ther critter know thet we be friends a-comin'. Par'ps she'm g'in out ontirely, a-thinkin' as no one war a-comin' ter her resky!”

”She, you say?”

”Yas, she; fer I calkylate 'twern't no _he_ as made them squawks. Sing out like a bellerin' bull, now, an' et ar' more or less likely--consider'bly more of less 'n less of more--that she will respond!”

Fearless Frank laughed, and forming his hands into a trumpet he gave vent to a loud, ear-splitting ”h.e.l.lo!” that made the prairies ring.

”Great whale uv Joner!” gasped the ”General,” holding his hands toward the region of his organs of hearing. ”Holy Mother o' Mercy! don't do et ag'in, b'yee--don' do et; ye've smashed my tinpanum all inter flinders! Good heaven! ye hev got a bugle wus nor enny steam tooter frum heer tew Lowell.”

”Hark!” said the youth, bending forward in a listening att.i.tude.

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