Part 50 (1/2)
”Durn it, ef 'taint my ole dog!” cried he, after several shorter exclamations--”my ole dog Wolf! Hullo, Stebbins!” continued he, facing sharply round to the Saint; ”what's the meanin' o' this? Didn't you tell me that he wur dead?”
Stebbins had turned pale as a sheet; and I could see his thin lips quivering with excitement. It was less fear than some other pa.s.sion that was playing upon his features; and too easily could I conjecture the current of thought that was running through his brain. The presence of that animal must have called up a train of reflections, far wilder and stranger than those that were pa.s.sing through the mind of the squatter; and I could perceive that he was making an effort to conceal his emotions. ”'Tis a very odd circ.u.mstance,” said he, speaking in a tone of a.s.sumed surprise--”very odd indeed! It is your dog, certainly, though the animal has been disfigured. I _thought_ he was dead. The men of our spring caravan told me so. They said that the wolves had killed him.”
”Wolves! durn it, I mout a know'd they kudn't a killed him--not all the wolves on the parairies! Why thur ain't the scratch o' a claw on him!
Whar did he come from anyhow? Who's brought him hyur?”
I could see that Stebbins was desirous of parrying the question. He gave an evasive answer. ”Who knows? He has likely been in the hands of some Indians--the paint shows that--and preferring the company of whites, he has followed us, and strayed into the camp.”
”Did he come with them ere Injuns that's outside?” quickly inquired Holt.
”No?--I fancy not with them,” answered the Mormon, in whose glance I could detect the falsehood.
”Let's go an' see!” proposed the squatter, making a step towards the entrance of the corral.
”No--not to-night, Holt!” hastily interposed the other, and with an eagerness that showed the interest he felt in procrastinating the inquiry. ”We must not disturb them to-night. In the morning, we can see them, and learn all about it.”
”Durn about disturbin' them! Why not to-night, instead o' the mornin'?”
”Well--if you wish to know to-night, I'll go myself, and speak to the guide. No doubt, if the dog came with them, he can tell us all about it? You stay here till I return?”
”Don't be long then. Ho, Wolf! ole fellur! Injuns have had ye, eh?
Durn it, old boy! I'm as gled to see ye, as if--”
An unexpected reflection was called forth by the form of speech--not that to which he was about to give words--but one whose bitterness, not only hindered him from saying what he had intended, but caused him instantly to abandon his caresses of the dog. Staggering back to his seat, he dropped heavily down upon it--at the same time burying his face in his hands. The expression upon the Mormon's features, as he parted from the fire, was one of demoniac significance. Clearly he comprehended all! I saw him gliding off through, the corral, with silent stealthy tread, like some restless spirit of darkness. Here and there he paused; and for a moment held one in conversation--then quickly pa.s.sing on to another. There was no mistaking the object of these manoeuvres. As clearly as if declared. I divined their intent. _He was summoning the ”Destroyers_!”
Not a moment was to be lost. I rushed back to the rear of the waggon; and with open arms gave utterance to my anguished appeal. But it needed not that, Marian had been, before me. Both she and her sister had witnessed the scene within the corral. Both already foresaw the coming storm: and ere my lips could close, after delivering the impa.s.sioned speech, Lilian Holt lay upon my bosom! It was the first time that fair cheek had pressed upon my shoulder--the first time those soft arms had entwined around my neck! Not for an instant dared I indulge in the sweet embrace. If we lingered, it might be the last! To the tents! to the tents! I knew that the horses would be waiting. A signal already given should have warned my comrades; and I had no conjecture, no fear about their being in readiness. As I expected, we found them all--both men and horses--the steeds saddled, bridled, and ready. The Mexican was there with the rest. The apparition of the dog had given him his cue; and he had hurriedly returned to the tents. We thought not of these, nor of the other paraphernalia--neither our mules nor their packs. Our lives and liberty alone concerned us. My Arab neighed joyfully, as I sprang into the saddle. He was proud to carry that fairer form upon the croup; and, as he bounded forward over the plain, his triumphant snort told, that he understood the glorious service he was called upon to perform.
As we parted from the tents, we could see a number of dark forms rus.h.i.+ng out from the avenue. In the red glare their shadows were projected far over the plain--even in advance of our horses. They were the shadows of men afoot; and we soon galloped beyond them. The music had suddenly ceased; and the murmuring hum of the dancers had given place to shouts and loud cries, that betokened a _stampede_ in the camp. We could distinguish the voices of men calling to the horse-guards; and, soon after, the quick trampling of hoofs, as the animals were hurried up to the enclosure. But we had very little uneasiness about the pursuit. We were too well-mounted to fear being overtaken; and, as we galloped off into the night, with confidence could we echo the cry of the bold borderer: ”They'll have fleet steeds that follow!”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THREE.
SEEKING A CACHE.
We rode direct for Robideau's Pa.s.s. The night still continued dark, but we had no difficulty in finding our way. Even in the obscurity, the deep trace of the heavy emigrant train was sufficiently conspicuous; and we were enabled to follow the back-track with precision. Our experienced guide could have conducted us over it blindfold. That we were pursued, and hotly pursued, there could be little doubt. For my part, I felt certain of it. The stake which Stebbins had hitherto held, was too precious to be parted with on slight conditions. The jealous vigilance with which Lilian had been guarded along the route--amounting, as I had incidentally ascertained, to a positive espionage--her yellow duenna at once acting as spy and protectress--all were significant of the intent already suspected by us, but of which the young girl herself was perhaps happily ignorant. The failure of his design--and now for the second time--would be a rude _contre-temps_ for the pseudo-apostle; and would no doubt endanger his expected promotion. Besides, he must have believed or suspected, that Marian Holt still lived; that she had survived the exposure consequent on her escape from the first caravan; and this belief or suspicion would now be confirmed by the reappearance of the dog. Nay, it was almost certain, that on recognising the animal, the truth had suddenly flashed upon him, that Marian was herself upon the ground; and that the spotted countenance that had for the moment deceived him, was that of his Tennessean bride. The abduction following upon the instant would not only confirm this belief, but would redouble his eagerness in a pursuit that promised a recapture of both the victims, who had thus unexpectedly escaped from his control.
Though with different motives, it was natural that Holt himself should be equally eager to pursue. He might still know nothing about the presence of Marian or her disguise. To him it would simply appear that his other child had been stolen from the camp--carried off by Indians-- and that _should_ be sufficient to rouse him to the most strenuous efforts for her recovery. For these reasons we had no doubt about our being pursued; and with all the zeal and energy of which our apostolic enemy and his myrmidons were capable of putting forth.
Twenty miles separated the Mormon camp from the entrance to Robideau's Pa.s.s. Nearly the whole of that distance we traversed at a gallop. So far we had experienced no apprehension; but, after entering the pa.s.s, our foaming horses began to show signs of fatigue. Those of Sure-shot and Wingrove, that were weaker than the rest, manifested symptoms of giving out. Both were evidently broken, and without rest could go no further. This produced a new uneasiness. We presumed that the horses of our pursuers would be comparatively fresh--after their long rest at their encampment--while ours had not only made a considerable journey the day before, but on that same day had pa.s.sed over fifty miles of ground--twenty of it in a gallop! No wonder they were manifesting signs of distress.
Shortly after entering the pa.s.s, we drew up to deliberate. By continuing onward, we should be almost certain to be overtaken. This was the more probable, from the keen pursuit we had reason to antic.i.p.ate. To remain where we were, would be to await the coming up of the enemy--no doubt in such numbers as to render our capture secure; and any attempt to defend ourselves would be idle as fatal. It was no longer with Indians we should have to deal--no longer with lances and arrows--but with strong bold men, armed like ourselves, and far outnumbering us. To conceal ourselves within the gorge, and permit our pursuers to pa.s.s, might have served our purpose for the time--had there been sufficient cover. But neither the rocks nor trees offered an advantageous hiding-place for our horses. The risk of their being discovered appeared too great. We dared not trust to such a slight chance of security. Within the pa.s.s, it was not possible to part from the trail; and on discovering the condition of our horses, we regretted not having left it before entering. We even entertained the question of returning some distance: since we might leave the trail by ascending a spur of the mountains in our rear. But this course appeared too perilous. Perhaps at that moment our pursuers might be entering the pa.s.s? Perhaps at that moment ”adown the glen rode armed men”--though as yet our ears were not a.s.sailed by the sound of their trampling.
Fortunately, in this moment of hesitancy, a thought occurred to our Mexican comrade, that promised to release us from the dilemma. It was a _memory_ that had suddenly flashed upon him. He remembered, on one of his trapping expeditions, having discovered a ravine that led out of Robideau's Pa.s.s on the northern side. It was a mere cleft cliff--just wide enough to admit the body of a man on horseback--but further up, it opened into a little plain or _vallon_, as the Mexican termed it, completely girt in by mountains. These on all sides rose so precipitously from the plain, as to render it impossible for a mounted man to scale them. The trapper had himself been obliged to return by the gorge--after having vainly endeavoured to find a way leading outward above. The vallon was therefore a _cul-de-sac_; or, as the trapper in his native synonyme called it, a _bolson_. Our guide was of opinion that this _bolson_ would serve as a hiding-place, until we could rest our horses. He was confident that the entrance of the ravine was not far from where we had halted; and, moreover, that he should be able to find it without difficulty. His advice, therefore, was, that we should seek the gorge; and, having found it, ride up into the vallon, and there remain, till the following night. The pursuit might pa.s.s in the meantime, and return again; but whether or not, our animals would then be rested; and even should we again encounter the pursuers we might hope to escape, through the superior speed of our horses.
The plan was feasible. There was but one objection that struck me; and I offered it for the consideration of our guide. The _vallon_ as he had stated, was a _cul-de-sac_. Should we be _tracked into it_, there would be no chance of retreat: we should be taken as in a trap?
”_Carrambo_!” exclaimed the Mexican, in answer to my suggestion, ”no fear of being tracked by such curs as they. They know nothing of that business. Not one of their whole fraternity could follow the trace of a buffalo in snow-time. _Carrambo_! No.”
”There is one who could,” I replied; ”one who could follow a feebler trail than ours.”