Books: In the Pecos Country
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Lieutenant R.H. Jayne >> In the Pecos Country
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There was no possibility of Fred failing to use all his senses to the
utmost, and he told his friend to go ahead and do the same.
Mickey first headed toward the cascade, as he had some hope of
learning something in that direction. Reaching the base of the falls,
they paused a while to contemplate them. There was nothing noteworthy
about them, except their location underneath the ground.
The water fell with such a gentle sound that the two were able to
converse in ordinary tones when standing directly at the base. Both
knelt down and tasted the cool and refreshing element, and then
Mickey, torch in hand, led the way up stream again.
Through this world of gloom the two made their way with considerable
care. Mickey cherished a lingering suspicion that there might be some
one else in the cave besides themselves, in which case he and Fred
would offer the best target possible; but he was willing to incur the
risk, and, although he moved slowly, it was with a decision to see the
thing through, and learn all that was to be learned about the cave.
The stream was followed about a hundred yards above the falls, when
the explorers reached the point where it entered the cave, and the two
made the closest examination possible.
On the way to the point the two had acquired considerable information.
The roof of their underground residence had a varying height from the
floor of from twenty to fifty feet. The floor itself was regular, but
not sufficiently so to prevent their walking over it with comparative
ease. The stream was only five or six feet in width and wherever
examined was found to be quite shallow. It flowed at a moderate rate,
and it entered the cavern from beneath a rock that ascended
continuously from the floor to the roof.
"Freddy, my laddy; do you take this torch and walk off aways, so that
it will be dark here," said Mickey to his companion.
The latter obeyed, and the man made as critical an examination as he
could. His object was to learn whether the water came into the cave
from the outer world, or whether its source was beneath the rock. If
the former, there was possibly a way out by means of the stream,
provided the distance intervening was not too great. Mickey thought
that if this distance were passable, there would be some glimmer of
light to indicate it. But, when left alone in the darkness, he found
that there was not the slightest approach to anything of the kind, and
he was compelled to acknowledge that all escape by that direction was
utterly out of the question.
Accordingly, he called Fred to him, and they began the descent of the
stream. When they reached the falls, they paused below them, and
Micky held the torch close to the water, where it was quiet enough for
them to observe the bottom.
"Tell me whether ye can see anything resimbling fishes?"
The lad peered into the water a minute, and them caught a flash of
silver several times.
"Yes, there's plenty of them!" he exclaimed, as the number increased,
and they shot forward from every direction, drawn to the one point by
the glare of the torch. "There's enough fish for us, if we can only
find some way to get them out."
"That's the rub," said Mickey, scratching his head in perplexity. "I
don't notice any fishlines and hooks about here. Howsumever, we can
wait awhile, being as our venizon isn't all gone, and we'll look down
stream, for there's where our main chance must be."
The Irishman, somehow or other, had formed the idea that the outlet of
the water would show them a way of getting out of the cavern. Despite
his careless and indifferent disposition, he showed considerable
anxiety, as he led the way along the bank, holding the smoking torch
far above his head, and lighting up the gloom and darkness for a long
distance on every hand.
"When your eye rists on anything interesting, call me attention to the
same," he cautioned him.
"I'll be sure to do that," replied Fred, who let nothing escape him.
The scenery was gloomy and oppressive, but acquired a certain monotony
as they advanced. The dark water, throwing back the light of the
torch; the towering, massive rocks overhead and on every hand; the
jagged, irregular roof and floor--these were the characteristics of
the scene which was continually opening before and closing behind
them. In several places the brook spread out into a slowly flowing
pond of fifty or a hundred feet in width; but it maintained its
progress all the time.
At no point which they examined did the depth of the water appear
greater than three feet, while in most places it was less than that.
It preserved its crystal-like clearness at all times, and in all
respects was a beautiful stream.
When they had advanced a hundred yards or so, the camp-fire which they
had left behind them took on a strange and unnatural appearance. It
seemed far away and burned with a pale yellow glare that would have
seemed supernatural, had it been contemplated by any one of a
superstitious turn.
As near as Mickey could estimate, they had gone over a hundred and
fifty yards when the point was reached where the stream gathered
itself and passed from view. Its width was no greater than four feet,
while its rapidity was correspondingly increased.
After Mickey had contemplated it awhile by the light of the torch, he
handed the latter to Fred, and told him to go off so far that he would
be left in total darkness. This being done, the man set to work to
study out the problem before him.
His theory was that, if the passage of the stream from the cavern to
the outside world were brief, the evidence of it could be seen,
perhaps, in the faintest tinge of light in the water, The sun was
shining brightly on the outside. and unless the stream flowed quite a
distance under ground, a portion of the refracted light would reach
his eye.
Mickey peered at the base of the rock for a few minutes, and then
exclaimed, with considerable excitement:
"Be the powers! but it's there!"
It was dim and faint, as light is sometimes seen through a translucent
substance, but he saw it so plainly that there could be no error.
When he looked aloft at the impenetrable gloom, he was sensible of the
same dim light upon the water. He tested his accuracy of vision by
looking in different directions, but the result was the same every
time.
The almost invisible illumination being there, the Irishman wanted no
philosopher to tell him that it was the sun striking the water as it
reached the outside, and the outer world, which he was so desirous of
re-entering, was close at hand.
Mickey was in high glee at the discovery, but when he regained his
mental poise, he could not shut his eyes to the fact that if he
attempted to reach the outer world by means of the stream, he ran a
terrible risk of losing his life. There was no vacancy between the
water and the stone which shut down upon it. The outlet was like an
open faucet to a full barrel. The escaping fluid filled up all the
space at command.
No one can live long without air. A few seconds of suspended
respiration is fatal to the strongest swimmer. If the distance
traveled by Mickey, when he should attempt to dive or float through to
the outer world, should prove a trifle too long, the stream would cast
out a dead man instead of a live one.
But he was a person of thorough grit, and before he would consent to
see himself and Fred imprisoned in this cavern, he would make the
attempt, perilous as it was.
Was there no other way of escape? Was there not some opening which
had been used by those who had entered this cave ahead of him? Or was
it possible that the imprisoning walls were to thin and shell-like in
some places that there was a means of forcing their way out? Or was
there no plan of climbing up the side of the prison and reaching an
opening in the roof, through which they could clamber to safety?
These and other thoughts were surging through the mind of Mickey
O'Rooney, when an exclamation from Fred caused him to turn his head.
The boy was running toward him, apparently in great excitement.
"What's the matter, me laddy?" asked Mickey, cocking his rifle, which
he had taken from him at the time of handing him the torch. "Oh,
Mickey, Mickey! I saw a man just now!"
CHAPTER XXIX
A MYSTERY
O'Rooney stood with rifle grasped, while young Munson ran toward him
from the centre of the cave, exclaiming in his excited tones:
"There's another man back yonder! I saw him and spoke to him!"
"Did ye ax him anything, and did he make a sensible reply?" demanded
the Irishman, whose concern was by no means equal to that of the lad.
"He made no answer at all, nor did he seem to take any notice of me."
"Maybe it's a ghost walking round the cave, on the same errand as
meself. But whist now; where is he, that I may go and ax him the
state of his health?"
The lad turned to lead the way, while Mickey followed close at his
heels, his gun ready to be used at an instant's warning, while Fred
kept glancing over his shoulder, to make sure that his friend was not
falling too far in the rear.
It seemed that, while the man was engaged in his exploration, the lad
had ventured upon a little prowling expedition of his own. During
this he made the startling discovery that some one else was in the
cave, and he dashed off at once: to notify his friend and guide.
Fred walked some distance further, still holding the torch above his
head and peering into the gloom ahead and on either hand, as though in
doubt as to whether he was on the right track or not. All at once he
stopped with a start of surprise, and, pointing some distance ahead
and upon the ground, said:
"There he is!"
Following the direction indicated, Mickey saw the figure of a man
stretched out upon the ground, face downward, as though asleep.
"You ain't afeard of a dead spalpeen?" demanded Mickey, with a laugh.
"You might have knowed from his shtyle that he's as dead as poor
Thompson was when Lone Wolf made a call on him."
"How do you know he's dead?" asked Fred, whose terror was not lessened
by the word of his friend.
"'Cause he couldn't have stretched out that way, and kept it up all
the time we've been fooling round here. If ye entertain any doubt,
I'll prove it. Let me have your torch."
Taking it from the lad's trembling hand, he walked to the figure,
stooped down, and, taking it by the shoulder, turned it over upon its
back. The result was rather startling even to such a brave man as
Mickey. It was not a dead man which the two looked down upon, but
practically a skeleton--the remains of an individual, who, perhaps,
had been dead for years. Some strange property of the air had
dessicated the flesh, leaving the face bare and staring, while the
garments seemed scarcely the worse for their long exposure.
Another noticeable feature was the fact that the clothing of the
remains showed that not only was he a white man, but also that he was
not a hunter or frontier character, such as were about the only ones
found in that section of the country. The coat, vest, and trousers
were of fine dark cloth, and the boots were of thin, superior leather.
The cap was gone. It was just such a dress as is encountered every
day in our public streets.
Mickey O'Rooney contemplated the figure for a time in silence. He was
surprised and puzzled. Where could this person have come from? There
was nothing about his dress to show that he belonged to the military
service, else it might have been supposed that he was some officer who
had wandered away from his post, and had been caught in the same
fashion as had the man and boy.
"Are there any more around here?" asked Mickey, in a subdued tone,
peering off into the gloom.
Fred passed slowly round in a circle, gradually widening out, until he
had passed over quite an area, but without discovering anything
further.
"There isn't any one else near us. If there is, he is in some other
part of the cave."
"How came ye to find this fellow?"
"I was walking along, never thinking of anything of the kind, when I
came near stepping upon the body. I was never more scared in my
life."
"That's the way wid some of yees--ye're more affrighted at a dead man
than a live one. Let's see whether he has left anything that ye can
identify him by."
Upon examining further, a silver-mounted revolver was found beneath
the body. It was untarnished, and seemingly as good as the day it was
completed. When Mickey came to look at it more closely, he found that
only one barrel had been discharged, all the others being loaded.
This fact aroused a suspicion, and, looking again at the head, a round
hole, such as would have been made only by a bullet, was found in the
very centre of the forehead. There could be but little doubt, then,
that this man, whoever he was, had wandered about the cavern until
famished, and, despairing of any escape, had deliberately sent
himself out of the world by means of the weapon at his command. But
who was he?
Laying the handsome pistol aside, Mickey continued the search, anxious
to find something that would throw light upon the history of the man.
It was probable that he had a rifle--but it was not to be found, and,
perhaps, had vanished, as had that of Fred Munson. It was more likely
that something would be found in his pockets that would throw some
light upon the question; and the Irishman, having undertaken the job,
went through it to the end.
It was not the pleasantest occupation in the world to ransack the
clothing of a skeleton, and he who was doing it could not help
reflecting as he did so that it looked very much like a desecration
and a robbing of the dead. To his great disappointment, however, he
failed to discover anything which would give the slightest clue. It
looked as if the man had purposely destroyed all such articles before
destroying himself, and, after a thorough search, Mickey was compelled
to give up the hunt.
Five chambers of the revolver, as has be said, were still loaded, and,
after replacing the caps, the new owner was confident they were good
for that number of shots.
"Here," said he, handing the weapon to the boy; "your rifle is gone,
and you may as well take charge of this. It may come as handy as a
shillelah in a scrimmage, so ye does hold on to the same."
Fred took it rather gingerly, for he did not fancy the idea of going
off with property taken from a dead man, but he suffered his friend to
pursuade him, and the arrangement was made.
In the belief that there might be others somewhere around, Mickey
spent an hour or two longer in an exploration of the cave, with the
single purpose of looking for bodies. They approached the ravine in
which Fred had dropped his gun. The Irishman leaped across, torch in
hand, and prosecuted his search along that side; but they were
compelled to give over after a time and conclude that only a single
individual had preceded them in the cave.
"Where he came from must iver remain a mystery," said Mickey. "He
hasn't been the kind of chaps you find in this part of the world; but
whoever he was, it must have been his luck to drop through the
skylight, just as we did. He must have found the wood here and
kindled a fire. Then he wint tramping round, looking for some place
to find his way out, and kept it up till he made up his mind it was no
use Then he acted like a gintleman who prefarred to be shot to
starving, and, finding nobody around to 'tend to the business, done it
himself."
"Can't we bury him, Mickey?"
"He's buried already."
The Irishman meant nothing especial in his reply, but there was a deep
significance about it which sent a shudder through his hearer from
head to foot. Yes, the stranger was buried, and in the same grave
with him were Mickey O'Rooney and Fred Munson.
The speaker saw the effect his words had produced, and attempted to
remove their sting.
"It looks very much to me as if the man had n't done anything but
thramp, thramp, without thrying any way of getting out, and then had
keeled over and give up."
"What could he do, Mickey?"
"Could n't he have jumped into the stream, and made a dive? He stood
a chance of coming up outside, and if he had n't, he would have been
as well off as he is now."
"Is that what _you_ mean to do?"
"I will, before I'd give up as he did; but it's meself that thinks
there's some other way of finding our way. Bring me gun along, and
come with me!"
Mickey carried the torch, because he wished to use it himself. He led
the way back to where the stream disappeared from view, and there he
made another careful examination, his purpose being different from
what it had been in the first place. He stooped over and peered at
the dark walls, noting the width of the stream and the contour of the
bank, as well as the level of the land on the right. Evidently he had
some scheme which he was considering.
He said nothing, but spent fully a half hour in his self-imposed task,
during which Fred stood in the background, trying to make out what he
was driving at. He saw that Mickey was so intently occupied that he
was scarcely conscious of the presence of any one else, and he did not
attempt to disturb him. Suddenly the Celt roused himself from his
abstraction, and, turning to the expectant lad, abruptly asked:
"Do you know, me laddy, that it is dinner-time?"
"I feel as though it was, but we have no means of judging the time,
being as neither of us carries a watch."
"Come on," added the Irishman, leading in the direction of the
camp-fire. "I'm sorry I didn't bring my watch wid me, but the trouble
was, I was afeard that it might tire out my horse, for it was of
goodly size. The last time it got out of order, it took a blacksmith
in the owld country nearly a week to mend it. It was rather large,
but it would have been handy. Whenever we wanted to cook anything, we
could have used the case for a stew-pan, or we could have b'iled eggs
in the same, and when we started our hotel at New Boston, it would
have done for a gong. It was rather tiresome to wind up nights, as
the key didn't give you much leverage, and if your hold happened to
slip, you was likely to fall down and hurt yersilf. But here we are,
as Jimmy O'Donovan said when he j'ined his father and mother in jail."
CHAPTER XXX
DISCUSSIONS AND PLANS
When they reached the camp-fire, it had burned so low that they threw
on considerable more wood before sitting down to their lunch. As it
flamed up and the cheerful light forced the oppressive gloom back from
around them, both felt a corresponding rise in spirits.
"It was lucky that I brought along that maat," remarked Mickey, as he
produced the venison, already cooked and prepared for the palate.
"It's a custom that Mr. Soot Simpson showed me, and I like it very
much. You note that the maat would be a great deal better if we had
some salt and pepper, or if we could keep it a few days till it got
tender; but, as it is, I think we'll worry it down."
"It seems to me that I never tasted anything better," responded Fred,
"but that, I suppose, is because I become so hungry before tasting
it."
"Yees are right. If ye want to know how good a cup of water can
taste, go two days without drinking; or if ye want to enjoy a good
night's rest, sit up for two nights, and so, if ye want to enjoy a
nice maal of victuals, ye must fast for a day or two. Now, I don't
naad any fasting, for I always enjoyed ating from the first pratie
they giv me to suck when I was a few waaks old."
"Well, Mickey, you've been pretty well around the cave, and I want to
know what you think of our chance of getting out?"
"The face of the Irishman became serious, and he looked thoughtfully
into the fire a moment before answering. Disposed as he was to view
everything from the sunshiny side, Mickey was not such a simpleton as
to consider their incarceration in the cave a matter that could be
passed off with a quirp and jest. He had explored the interior pretty
thoroughly, and gained a correct idea of their situation, but as yet
he saw no practical way of getting out. The plan of diving down the
stream, and trusting to Providence to come up on the outside was to be
the last resort.
Mickey did not propose to undertake it until convinced that no other
scheme was open to him. In going about the cave, he struck the walls
in the hope of finding some weak place, but they all gave forth that
dead sound which would have been heard had they been backed up by
fifty feet of solid granite. Among the many schemes that he had
turned over in his mind, none gave as little promise as this, and he
dismissed it as utterly impracticable.
He could conjure no way of reaching that opening above their heads.
He could not look up at that irregular, jagged opening without
thinking how easy it would be to rescue them, if they could make their
presence known to some one outside. There was Sut Simpson, who must
have learned that he had gone upon the wrong trail, and who had,
therefore, turned back to the assistance of his former comrade.
The latter knew him to be a veteran of the prairie, one who could read
signs that to others were like a sealed book, and whose long years of
adventure with the tribes of the Southwest had taught him all their
tricks; but whether he would be likely to follow the two, and to
understand their predicament, was a question which Mickey could not
answer with much encouragement to himself. Still there was a
possibility of its being done, and now and then the Irishman caught
himself looking up at the "skylight," with a longing, half-expectant
gaze.
There were several other schemes which he was turning over in his
mind, none of which, however, had taken definite shape, and, not
wishing to discourage his young friend, he answered his question as
best he could.
"Well, my laddy, we're going to have a hard time to get out, but I
think we'll do it."
"But can you tell me how?"
Mickey scratched his head in his perplexed way, hardly feeling
competent to come down to particulars.
"I can't, exactly; I've a good many plans I'm turning over in my head,
and some of them are very fine and grand, and its hard to pick out the
right one."
Fred felt that he would like to hear what some of them were, but he
did not urge his friend, for he suspected that the fellow was trying
to keep their courage up.
They had finished their meal, and were sitting upon the sandy soil,
discussing the situation and throwing an occasional longing look at
the opening above. They had taken care to avoid getting directly
beneath it; for they had no wish to have man or animal tumble down
upon their heads. Now and then some of the gravel loosened and
rattled down, and the clear light that made its way through the
overhanging bushes showed that the sun was still shining, and, no
doubt, several hours still remained to them in which to do any work
that might present itself. But, unfortunately, nothing remained to
do.
Whatever were the different schemes which Mickey was turning over in
his mind, none of them was ripe enough to experiment with. As the
Irishman thought of this and that, he decided to make no special
effort until the morrow. He and Fred could remain where they were
without inconvenience for a day or two longer, but it was necessary,
too, that they should have their full strength of body and mind when
the time should come to work.
"Sometimes when I git into a sore puzzle," said Mickey, "and so many
beautiful and irritating plans come up before me that I cannot find it
in my heart which way to decide, I goes to slape and drames me way
through it, right straight into the right way."
"Did you ever find your path out of trouble?" inquired Fred.
"Very frequently--that is, not to say so frequently--but on one or two
important occasions. I mind the time when I was coorting Bridget
O'Flaherty and Mollie McFizzle, in the ould counthry. Both of 'em was
fine gals, and the trouble was for me to decide which was the best as
a helpmate to meself.
"Bridget had red hair and beautiful freckles and a turn-up nose, and
she was so fond of going round without shoes that her feet spread out
like boards; Molly was just as handsome, but her beauty was of another
style. She had very little hair upon her pad, and a little love-pat
she had wid an old beau of hers caused a broken nose, which made her
countenance quite picturesque. She was also cross-eyed, and when she
cocked one eye down at me, while she kept a watch on the door wid the
other, there was a loveliness about her which is not often saan in the
famale form."
"And you could n't decide which of these would make you the best
wife?"
"Nary a once. The attraction of both was nearly equal."
"But how about their housekeeping? I've often heard father tell what
a splendid housekeeper mother was, and how he would rather have his
wife a good housekeeper than beautiful."
"But the trouble was, I had both. I've described you the charms and
grace of each, and when I add that both were elegant housekeepers,
ye'll admit that my dilemma was greater than ever. They both handled
the broom to perfection; they could knock a chap clane across the
cabin and out of the window before ye could know what was coming. Me
mither used to say it was the housekeeping qualities that should
decide, and she told me to call upon 'em sometime when they was n't
expecting me, and obsarve the manner in which they handled things.
Wal, Bridget was the first one that I sneaked in upon. I heard a
thumping noise as I drew near, as though something was tumbling about
the floor, and when I peeped through the door, I saw that Bridget and
her mother was havig a delightful love-pat. They was banging and
whaling each other round the room, and, as the old lady had her muscle
well up, it was hard to tell which was coming out ahead. Of course,
my sympathies were with the lovely Bridget, and I was desirous that
she should win--but I didn't consider it my duty to interfere. I
supposed the old lady had been trying to impose too much work on
Bridget, and, therefore, she had rebelled, and was lambasting her for
the same. My interest in the little affair was so great, that I
pushed the door ajar, and stood with me mouth and eyes wide open. It
wasn't long before I began to get worried, for, from the way things
looked, the owld lady was getting the upper hand. I was thinking I
would have to sail in and lend a helping hand, when Bridget fotched
the old lady a whack that made her throw up the sponge. Wid that I
felt so proud that I sung out a word of encouragement, and rushed
forward to embrace my angel, but, before I could do so, she give me a
swipe that sent me backward through the door, busting it off, and I
was out of the ring.
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