Books: In the Pecos Country

L >> Lieutenant R.H. Jayne >> In the Pecos Country

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Such was the case. There had been plotting and counterplotting.
While the Kiowas were playing their tricks upon the Apaches, the
latter managed to a certain extent to turn the tables. When they
branched out upon their reconnoitering expedition, Waukko was engaged
in the same business. When he discovered the single sentinel sitting
by the fire, he crept up like a phantom behind him, and drove his
hunting knife with such swift silence that his victim gave only a
spasmodic quiver and start, and was dead.

Waukko placed him in the position he was occupying at the time he
first caught sight of him, and then left his companions to learn the
truth for themselves, while he crept back to learn that his prisoner
had given his captor the slip.

Fred Munson was terrified when he found he was standing by the dead
form of his friend Thompson, a couple of nights before, and so, in the
present instance, a certain awe came over him, as it naturally does
when a person stands in the presence of death. But, for all that, the
boy was heartily glad, and he had wisdom enough to improve the
splendid opportunity that thus came to him, and for which he had
hardly dared to pray.

"I don't see what a dead man can want of a gun," he muttered, as he
moved rather timidly toward the figure, "and, therefore, it will not
be thieving for me to take it."

There was a little involuntary shuddering when he grasped the barrel
and sought to draw the weapon from its resting-place. The inanimate
warrior seemed to clutch it, as though unwilling to let it go, and the
feeling that he was struggling with a dead man was anything but
comfortable. Fred persevered, however, and speedily had the
satisfaction of feeling that the rifle was in his possession.

The weapon was heavy for one of his size, but it was a thousand times
preferable to nothing.

He stood "hefting" it, as the expression goes, and turning it over in
his hand, when he heard the report of a second gun, this time so close
that he started, thinking it had been aimed at him.

Such was not the case; but at that moment there came an overpowering
conviction that he was doing a most foolhardy thing in remaining s0
conspicuously in view, when the red-skins were liable to return at any
moment and wreak their vengeance upon him for the robbery, to say
nothing of the death, of their comrade, which might be attributed to
him. So he hurriedly and quietly withdrew into the outer darkness.

CHAPTER XVIII
ALONE IN THE RAVINE

Fred Munson felt that he had been extremely fortunate, not only in
securing a good, substantial supper, but in getting a rifle. With it
he could guard against danger and starvation. In that country, and
especially among those mountains, was quite an abundance of game, and
he had learned how to aim a gun too well to prevent his throwing any
shots away.

By this time the night was well advanced, and he concluded that the
wisest thing he could do was to hunt up some place where he could
sleep until morning. This did not seem to be difficult in a country
so cut up and broken by rocks, and he moved away from the camp-fire
with a sense of deep gratitude for the extraordinary good fortune that
had followed him from the time Lone Wolf had withdrawn him from the
main party.

"Now, if I could only get a horse," he said to himself, "I would be
set up in business. I could find the way back to New Boston in a day
or two, shooting what game I want, and keeping out of the way of all
Indians. I wonder what has become of Sut Simpson? I expected he
would be somewhere around here before this. It would be very handy to
come across him just now and have him help me home. And there's
Mickey Rooney. He went off on one of the best horses; and if he could
pick me up and take me along, it wouldn't need much time for us to get
back home. Ah, if I only had Hurricane here," he sighed. "How we
would go back through that ravine, leaving behind us the best horses
in the country; but there's no use of thinking of that. Hurricane is
at home, and so he can't be here, and I must trust to Providence to
get back. I have something now that is of more use than a horse. If
I miss with one charge, I can--"

He stopped suddenly in amazement, for at that juncture he recalled a
piece of great stupidity which he had committed. He had secured the
rifle, and yet he had left without one thought of the indispensable
ammunition that was required to make the weapon of any use. He did
not know whether the gun in his hand was loaded or not, in which
latter case it was of no more account than a piece of wood.

"Well, if that don't beat everything," he muttered, at a loss to
understand how he could have committed such an oversight. "I never
once thought of it till this minute, and now it's too late!"

The reflection of his great need inclined him to return to the
camp-fire and incur the risk involved in the effort to repair the
blunder that he had committed.

"_That_ Indian cannot hurt me, and I don't suppose that any of the
others have come back. It won't take me long to get what I want; and
I will do it, too."

He was but a short distance from the place, and, having decided upon
the proper course, he moved rapidly back upon the path he had just
trod, and in a few minutes was beside the rock, which was becoming
familiar in a certain sense. Mindful of the danger to which one was
always exposed in that section, Fred peered around the rock with the
same silence and caution as before. The result was a disappointment.
The Kiowa had disappeared.

"Now it can't be that he was only pretending he was asleep all the
time," thought the puzzled lad. "And yet, if he wasn't, how was it he
managed to get away?"

A few minutes' reflection convinced Fred that it was impossible that
there should have been any such thing as he had imagined at first.
The more reasonable theory was that some of the Kiowas had returned
and taken the body of their comrade away, fearful, perhaps, that some
of the Apaches might put in an appearance again and rob him of his
scalp. However, whatever the explanation was, Fred saw that his
expedition was a failure. There was nothing to be gained by remaining
where he was, while there was unmistakable risk of being detected by
some of the copper-colored prowlers.

He noticed that the camp-fire bore very much the same appearance as
when he last saw it, and the probabilities were that the Kiowas were
some distance away at that very time; but the young fugitive had
already run enough risk, without incurring any more, and he resolved
to spend an hour or two in getting out of the neighborhood altogether.

There was little choice of direction, but it was natural that he
should prefer the back-trail, and, clambering down into the ravine
again, he turned his face to the southward, directly through the
ravine that he had traversed during the day upon the back of Waukko's
mustang.

"I can tell when I reach the place where Lone Wolf and his men left
us," he said to himself. "That will take me a good while, but when I
do find it, the trail will be so much larger and plainer that there
will be no trouble about following it, but it will take me several
days to do it, and it is going to be hard work. I need all the time
possible, so I guess it will be best to keep going all night."

There was not so much amusement in this as he fancied, but he kept it
up bravely for some two or three hours, during which he made good
headway. The walking was comparatively easy in the ravine, which was
one of those openings encountered at intervals among the mountains in
the West, and which are known under the name of passes. In many
places it would be utterly out of the question for parties to force
their way through the chains but for these avenues, which nature has
kindly furnished.

The moonlight was just sufficient to make the boy feel uneasy. He
could discern objects, although indistinctly, nearly a hundred yards
away, and where the character of the gorge was continually shifting to
a certain extent there was abundant play for the imagination.

He had been walking but a short time when he abruptly halted, under
the impression that he had seen an Indian run across the gorge
directly in front of him. This caused a wilder throbbing of his
heart, and another examination of his gun, which was loaded, as he had
assured himself some time before, and ready at any time to do him one
good turn, if no more.

"He wouldn't have skipped over in that style if he had known I was so
near," was the reflection of the boy, as he sheltered himself in the
shadow of the rocks and looked and listened. "How did he know but
what I might have picked him off? What was to hinder me? If he did
n't know I was here, why, it ain't likely that he would loaf along the
side of the ravine."

By such a course of reasoning, he was not long in convincing himself
that the way was open for his advance. He hurried by on tiptoe, and
drew a long breath of relief when certain that he had passed the
dangerous spot. But he was only a short distance beyond when his hair
fairly arose on end, for he became certain that he heard the groan of
a man among the boulders over his head.

"I wonder what the matter is there?" he whispered, peering upward in
the gloom and shadow. "It may be some white man that the Indians have
left for dead, and that still has some life in his body, or it may be
an Indian himself who has met with an accident--helloa!"--

Just then it sounded again, and a cold shiver of terror crept over him
from head to foot, as he was able to locate the precise point from
which it came. The frightful groaning did not stop as suddenly as
before, but rose and sank, with a sound like the wail of some
suffering human being.

As Fred stood trembling and listening, his shuddering fear collapsed;
for the sound which had transfixed him with such dread, he now
recognized as the whistling of the wind, which, slight in itself, was
still manipulated in some peculiar fashion by a nook in the rocks
overhead.

"That does sound odd enough to scare a person," he muttered, as he
resumed his walk. "It must be a regular trumpet-blast when the wind
is high, for there isn't much now."

The two incidents resulting so harmlessly, Fred was inspired with
greater confidence, and advanced at a more rapid walk along the
ravine, suffering no check until he had gone fully a mile further.
Just then, while striding along with increasing courage, he came to a
place where the side of the ravine was perpendicular for two or three
hundred feet.

He was close to this, so as to use the protection of the shadow, and
was dreaming of no danger, when a rattling of gravel and debris caused
him to look up, and he saw an immense mass of rock, that had become
loosened in some way, descending straight for his head.

CHAPTER XIX
THE MYSTERIOUS PURSUER

Young Munson made a sudden bound outward, and, just as he did so, a
mass of rock weighing fully a dozen tons, fell upon the precise spot
where he had stood, missing him so narrowly that the blast of wind, or
rather concussion of the air, was plainly felt. The boulder broke
into several pieces, its momentum being so terrific that the ground
for several feet around was jarred as if by an earthquake.

The lad was overcome for a moment or two, for he realized how narrow
his escape was from a terrible and instantaneous death.

"That was a little closer than I ever want to come again," he
exclaimed. "It seems to me that a person is always likely to get
killed, no matter where he is or what he is doing. I don't suppose
that anybody threw that down at me," he continued, in a half-doubting
voice, as he stepped a few paces back and again peered into the gloom.

If it had been during the day-time, he might have suspected that some
scamp had managed to pry the mass loose, and to send it crashing
downward straight for his head. But as the case stood, such a thing
could not have taken place.

Fred continued his flight until nearly midnight, by which time his
fatigue became so great that he began to hunt a place in which to
spend the remainder of the night. He had not yet seen any wild
animals, and was hopeful that he would suffer no disturbance from
them. The single charge of his rifle was to precious to be thrown
away upon any such game as that.

The lad was in the very act of leaving the ravine, when his step was
arrested by a sound too distinct to be mistaken. It was not
imagination this time, and he paused to identify it. The sound was
faint and of the nature of a jarring or murmur. He suspected that it
was caused by horses' hoofs, and he listened but a few minutes when he
became certain that such was the fact.

"There must be a big lot of them," he thought, as he listened to the
sound growing plainer and plainer every minute. "I wonder if Lone
Wolf and his men have not done what they started to do and are going
round home again?"

Judging from the clamping hoofs, such might have been the case. At
all events, there was every reason for believing that a party of
horsemen were in the ravine and that they were headed in his
direction.

Fred made up his mind to wait where he was until they passed by. He
had no fear of being seen, when the opportunity for hiding was all
that could be desired, and, lying flat upon his face, he awaited the
result.

Nearer and nearer came the tramp, tramp, the noise of hoofs mingling
in a dull thud that sounded oddly in the stillness of the night to the
watching and listening lad.

"Here they come," he muttered, before he saw them; but the words were
hardly out of his mouth when a shadowy figure came into view,
instantly followed by a score of others, all mingling and blending in
one indistinguishable mass.

The forms of animals and riders were plainly discernible, but they
came in too promiscuous fashion to be counted, and they were gone
almost as soon as they were seen. Fred was confident that thirty
warriors galloped by him in the stillness of the night.

"I believe it was Lone Wolf and some of his men," he muttered, as he
clambered down from his place among the rocks. Having been thoroughly
awakened by what he had seen, he determined to walk an hour or more
longer, for he felt that the best time for him to journey was during
the protecting darkness of night.

"There ain't anybody to make me get up early," he reasoned, "and when
I go to sleep I can stick to it as long as I want to. It seems to me
that if I walk all I can tonight, and keep at it the most of tomorrow,
I ought to be somewhere near the place where we came in among these
mountains. Then a day or two's tramping over the back trail will take
me pretty nearly to New Boston--that is, if nobody gobbles me up.
I've got a rough road before me, but God has guided me thus far, and
I'll trust him clean through. I've had some wonderful escapes to tell
about--"

He was too wide awake and too much on the alert to forget precisely
where he was, or to fail to take in whatever should occur of an
alarming nature. That which now startled him and suddenly cut short
his musings was the sound of a horse's hoofs, close behind him.

Fred had been duped by his own fears and imaginings so many times that
he could not be served so again, and, as he was not apprehending
anything of the kind at that moment, there was no possibility of
escape from the reality of the sound. He halted and turned his head
like lightning, grasping his rifle in his nervous, determined way as
he peered back into the gloom, whispering to himself:

"That must be Lone Wolf or some of the warriors coming back to look
for me."

This was rather vague theorizing, however. Look and stare as much as
he chose, he could detect nothing that resembled man or animal. He
shrank to one side and waited several minutes, in the hope that ihe
thing would explain itself. But it did not, and, after waiting some
time, he resumed his journey along the ravine, keeping close to the
shadow on the right side, and using eyes and ears to guard against the
insidious approach of any kind of foe.

Sometimes, under such circumstances, when a sound has very nearly or
quite died out In the stillness, there seems to come a peculiar eddy
or turn of wind, or that which causes the sound, passes for an instant
at a point which is so situated as to impel the waves of air directly
to the ear of the listener. Fred did not exactly understand how this
thing could happen, but he had known of something of the kind, and he
was gradually bringing himself to explain the thing in that fashion,
when his theory was upset by such a sudden, violent rattling of hoofs,
so close behind him, that he leaped to one side, fearful of being
trampled upon.

"That's a pretty way to come upon a fellow!" he gasped, whirling about
with the purpose of shooting the red-skin for his startling
introduction.

But neither rider nor horseman was visible.

The watcher could scarcely believe the evidence of his own senses. It
seemed to him that the Apache, as he believed him to be, must have
turned abruptly aside, into some opening in the side of the ravine,
but he could not remember having seen any place that would admit of
such strategy. When he came to reflect upon it, it seemed impossible.

"Well, that beats everything," he said, with a perplexed sigh. "That
sounded so close that I expected to be run over before I could get out
of the way, and now he's gone."

He waited some minutes, and, hearing and seeing nothing, once more
resumed his stealthy way along the gorge, a new, shivering fear
gradually creeping over him, as it does over anyone who suspects
himself in the presence of the unexplainable and unnatural.

"I wonder whether they have ghosts in this part of the world?" he said
to himself. "I used to hear the men talk of such things, but father
said there was nothing in them, and so I didn't believe them--but I
don't know what father would say or think if he was in my place."

There was the strong counter-belief, also--the conviction that most
likely there was a reality about the thing--which kept Fred on the
_qui vive_. He was determined, if possible, to prevent a repetition
of the startling surprise of a few minutes before. He scrutinized the
side of the ravine as he walked along, on the lookout for any opening
or crevice which would permit a man and a horse to find shelter. It
did not seem possible that any retreat that would shelter them could
escape the eyes of the lad.

"I haven't seen any such place yet, so, if the Indian is trying any
such trick, he can't do it here without my seeing him, and if I
do--Heaven save me!"

He sprang to one side, again pressing himself back against the rock,
as though trying to flatten his body there in order to escape the
trampling hoofs. At the same time he cocked his rifle, with the
purpose of giving the finishing touch to the Apache who had alarmed
him once too often in this fashion.

CHAPTER XX
AN UNCOMFORTABLE LODGING

A more astounding surprise than before awaited the lad. His hair
almost lifted itself as he found himself staring at vacancy, with no
sign of a living person in sight. Whatever had been the cause of this
mysterious performance, it was very apparent that the solution rested
not with the young fugitive.

"I'm tired of this," he exclaimed, impatiently, after he had waited
several minutes, "and it is n't going to be played on me again."

With this, he began clambering up out of the ravine, with the resolve
to reach some place where no shadowy horseman could ride over him.

The climbing was difficult at first, but he soon reached a point where
the inclination was not so steep, and where he could progress with
much more ease and facility. In this way he in time reached the upper
level, and, believing himself out of range of his phantom pursuer, had
time to look about for some sleeping-place for the night.

He frequently paused and listened, but could not see or hear anything
of man or beast, and, confident that no danger was to be apprehended
from either, he devoted himself to hunting for some refuge, that he
could consider secure against molestation. His first inclination was
to seek out a place among the rocks, as he was likely to gain room
where he could stretch out at his ease and enjoy a few hours' slumber,
but, on reflection, there were several objections to this.

In that part of the world were an abundance of poisonous serpents, and
he had a natural dread of disturbing some of them.

"If I can find the right kind of tree, I think that will be the best
sort of a place, for nothing could get at me there, and there may be
all the limbs I want to make a bed. I guess there's the location
now."

He was walking along all the time that he had been thinking and
talking, and, at this juncture, he approached a straggling group of
trees, which seemed likely to offer the very refuge he was seeking.
He made his way toward them with quickened steps.

Fred found himself upon a sort of plateau, broken here and there by
rocks, boulders, and irregularities of surface, but in the main easy
to be traversed, and he lost no time in making a survey of the grove
which had caught his eye. There were some twenty in all, and several
of them offered the very shelter. The limbs were no more than six or
eight feet above the ground, and the largest trees were fifty feet in
height, the branches appearing dense, and capable, apparently, of
affording as firm a support as anyone could need while asleep.

"I guess that will do," he concluded, after surveying the largest,
which happened to stand on the outer edge of the grove. "If I can get
the bed, there ain't any danger of being bothered by snakes and wild
animals."

Fred naturally pondered a moment as to the best means of climbing into
the tree with his gun. It was full size, and of such weight that he
had been considerably wearied in carrying it such a distance, but it
contained a precious charge, to be used in some emergency that was
likely to arise, and no man was wealthy enough to buy it from him.
The way that he decided upon was to leave the gun against the trunk of
the tree, and then climb in the way that comes natural to a boy. The
barrel of course, would bother him a little, but he could pull through
very well, and he immediately set about doing so.

As he expected, the gun got in his way, but he managed it very well,
without knocking it down, and in a few minutes had climbed high enough
to grasp the first limb with one hand, which was all that he desired,
as he could easily draw himself up in that fashion.

Fred had just made his grasp certain, when he heard a peculiar yelp,
and a rush of something by him.

Not knowing what it meant, but apprehending some new danger, he drew
himself upon the limb with a spasmodic effort, and then turned to see
what it meant. To his amazement and terror, he discovered that it was
an immense wolf, which had made a snap at and narrowly missed his
heels. It had come like a shadow, making no announcement of its
presence, and a second or two sooner would have brought the two into
collision.

As Fred looked downward the wolf looked upward, and the two glared at
each other for a minute or so, as if they meant to stare each other
out of countenance. The wolf was unusually large, belonging to what
is known as the mountain species, and he seemed capable of leaping up
among the limbs without any extra effort; but wolves are not addicted
to climbing trees, and the one in question seemed to content himself
with looking up and meditating upon the situation. It seemed to the
lad that he was saying:

"Well, young man, you're up there out of my reach, but I can afford to
wait; you'll have to come down pretty soon."

"If I only had some powder and ball," reflected Fred, "I'd soon wipe
you out."

The temptation was very strong to spend the last bullet upon him, but
he could not fail to see the absurdity of the thing; besides which,
his gun was seated upon the ground, with the muzzle pointed upward at
him. He could reach it from his perch on the lowermost limb, but it
was hardly safe to attempt it while his enemy was seated there upon
his haunches, as if debating whether he should go up or not.

The boy was in terror lest the brute should strike the piece and knock
it down, in which case it was likely to be discharged and to be placed
altogether beyond his reach. But the dreaded creature sat as
motionless as if he were a carved statue in front of some gentleman's
residence, his eyes fixed upon his supper, which had escaped him by
such a narrow chance. The situation was about as interesting as it
could well be, and, in fact, it was rather too interesting for Fred,
who was alarmed at the prospect of being besieged by a mountain wolf.

After the lapse of a minute or two, the brute quietly rose from his
haunches, trotted a few paces, and then gave utterance to the dismal
wail peculiar to his species. It had a baying, howling tone, which
made the chills creep over the boy from head to foot. He had heard
the barking and howling of wolves when crossing the prairies, but
there was deep, thunderous bass to the one which now struck upon his
ear such as he had never before heard, and which gave it a
significance that was like a voice from the tomb.

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