Frank in the Mountains
They had not decided where they were going, or what they would do; but, as far as the sport they were likely to meet with was concerned, that made little difference. In that wilderness they could not run amiss of something to excite and amuse them, let them go in what direction they would. If they preferred quiet sport, there was plenty of it to be found in the brook that ran through the valley. No city fishermen, with their jointed poles and artificial flies, had ever invaded this retired spot; and having no enemies except an occasional fishhawk, and a few straggling Indians and trappers to contend with, the trout had increased and multiplied until the stream fairly swarmed with them. If they decided to try their rifles, and engage in some more active and exhilerating sport than fishing, there were the mountains, which abounded in game of every description. If they felt so inclined they might, within less than half an hour, make the acquaintance of a panther or two, or renew their intimacy with the grizzlies. Archie did not deny that he was afraid of grizzly bears, and, for that reason, he thought it best to give them and their haunts a wide berth. He picked out a shady spot on the bank of the brook, and said he would stop there and try his luck at fishing; while Frank, who had heard that elk were plenty in the mountains, thought he would ride farther on and see if he could find one. "I shall not go far," said he, "for not being acquainted with the country, I might get lost; and I shouldn't like the idea of being obliged to stay in the mountains all night."
"Nor I either," replied Archie; "and for that reason I am going to stay here, where I know I am safe. Hold on a minute, and see me catch a fish."
Archie dismounted from his horse, and after tying the animal to a neighboring tree, cut from the thicket a long, slender sapling, which, on being stripped of its branches, promised to answer the purpose for which it was intended, and to pull out a trout as well as any twenty-five-dollar rod. Then he produced a fish-line from his pocket, and in a short time his pole was rigged. The bait was dropped carefully over the bank, and no sooner had it touched the water than it was seized by a ravenous trout, which found itself struggling on the ground in a twinkling.
"He is rather larger than those we used to catch about Lawrence, isn't he?" said Frank. "Now, if I am fortunate enough to knock over an elk, we'll have a supper such as people in the cities do not often enjoy."
Archie, intent upon securing his fish before it floundered back into the water, did not reply; and when he looked up again, his cousin was out of sight.
Frank urged Roderick into a gallop, and soon had left the valley behind, and was threading his way through a thickly-wooded ravine that led into the mountains. Here he became more cautious in his movements, and allowed his horse to walk leisurely along, while he peered through the trees on every side of him, in the hope of meeting with one of the numerous elk which every evening descended from the mountains into the valley to crop the grass and slake their thirst at the brook. His chances for a shot at one of these animals would have been greatly increased if he had left his horse behind; but grizzlies were plenty, and Frank did not like the idea of encountering one while on foot. On this particular evening, however, the mountains seemed to be deserted. Not a living animal of any description did he see, during the hour and a half that he continued on his course up the ravine; and becoming discouraged at last, he turned Roderick about and rode toward the rancho.
"I wish I could see just one squirrel," said Frank, who, like all young hunters, considered it his duty to empty his gun at something before he returned home. "What's that?"
A slight movement in the bushes in advance of him attracted his attention; then a twig snapped behind him, and a yell, so sudden and appalling that it made Frank's blood run cold, echoed through the ravine; and before he could look about him to see what was the matter, he was pulled from his saddle and thrown to the ground. In a twinkling his rifle was torn from his grasp, his hands bound behind his back, and he was helped to his feet to find himself surrounded by a party of Indians in war costume.
CHAPTER III
FRANK LEARNS SOMETHING
Frank was as frightened as a boy could be. Amazed at the suddenness of the assault, he gazed in stupid wonder at the savages, winked his eyes hard to make sure that he was not dreaming, and looked again. But there was no dreaming about it – it was all a reality; and as he stood there powerless among his captors, and looked at their glittering weapons, and painted, scowling faces, all the stories he had heard the trappers relate of their experience among the Indians, came fresh to his memory. He recognized one of the savages, and that was the chief. His blanket and buckskin hunting shirt were gone, he wore the tomahawk and scalping knife in his belt, his face was covered with paint, and altogether he looked fierce enough to frighten any boy who had never seen Indians in war costume before.
Frank took these things in at a glance; and while he was wondering what object the Indians could have in view in capturing him, and what they intended to do with him, he was trying hard to summon all his courage to his aid, and to appear as unconcerned as possible. If there had been any hostile Indians in that part of the country, he could have understood the matter; but he had been told that they were all friendly.
"Look here, chief," said he, "I'd like to know what this means. You have made a mistake."
The savage paid no more attention to his words than if he had not spoken at all. He gave a few orders in his native tongue to his companions, two of whom placed Frank on Roderick's back and held him there, while a third seized the horse by the bridle, and followed after the chief, who led the way down the ravine. How far they went, or in what direction, Frank could not have told, for his mind was in too great confusion. He was trying to arrive at some satisfactory explanation concerning the Indians' conduct. He had expected that the first action on their part would be to pull his hair, strike at him with their knives and tomahawks, point their guns and arrows at him, and try, by every means in their power, to frighten him. That was the way they always served their prisoners; but thus far he had no reason to complain of their treatment. He wished the chief would explain matters to him, and thus relieve him of suspense.
At the end of half an hour, during which time Frank made several unsuccessful attempts to induce some of the Indians to talk to him, the chief emerged from the ravine, and led the way into a little valley, similar to the one in which Mr. Brent's rancho was located. The sight that here met Frank's gaze astonished him. The valley was filled with lodges, and Frank saw more Indians at the single glance he swept about the camp than he had ever seen before in all his life. Children were playing about in front of the lodges, the women were engaged in various occupations, and the braves, all of whom were in their war-paint, smoked their pipes, and lounged in the shade. Frank was greatly relieved to find that no one noticed the chief and his party. When he first came in sight of the village, he had screwed up all his courage again, expecting no very friendly reception. Bob and Dick had told him that when they were carried into an Indian camp as prisoners, every man, woman, and child turned out to meet them, and to amuse themselves by beating them with switches and clubs; but nothing of the kind was attempted now. Those who looked at Frank at all, merely took one glance at him; and the most of them did not even look up when he passed.
The chief walked straight through the village, and stopped in front of a large wigwam that stood a little apart from the others. At a sign from him, Frank was pulled from his horse, and after his hands had been unbound, a corner of the wigwam, which served as a door, was lifted up, and he was pushed under it. Then the door was dropped to its place, and Frank heard the Indians moving off with Roderick.
The light was all shut out from the inside of the lodge, and as soon as the prisoner's eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he began to look about him. The lodge was about fifteen feet in diameter, and was built of neatly-dressed skins, supported on a frame-work of saplings. Weapons of all kinds were suspended from the walls, the chiefs blanket, bridle, spear, and head-dress occupied one corner, and several buffalo robes, which doubtless served him for a bed, were piled in another. There was no one in the lodge, and Frank, being no longer compelled to wear the appearance of unconcern he had assumed while in the presence of the Indians, gave full vent to his pent-up feelings. His forced calmness forsook him, a feeling of desolation such as he had never before experienced came over him, and covering his face with his hands, he staggered toward the buffalo robes, and threw himself upon them.
"If I only knew what they intend to do with me," sobbed Frank, "I should not feel so badly about it. If they have made up their minds to tie me to the stake, or to compel me to run the gauntlet, why don't they tell me so, and give me a chance to prepare for it? Can it be possible that that race and wrestling match have any thing to do with my capture? The Indians seemed friendly enough when I first visited their camp at the trading-post, and I'd like to know what they mean by taking me prisoner when I wasn't doing any thing to them! What could have induced them to change their camp so suddenly, any how? A few hours ago there were not more than a hundred in the band; now there must be five times as many, and the braves are all in war-paint, too? I can't understand it."
A step outside the lodge, and a rustling among the skins which formed the door, aroused Frank, and he once more made a strong effort to compose himself. The door was raised, and a face appeared at the opening – a dark, scarred, scowling face, which was almost concealed by a fur cap and thick bushy whiskers. Frank was thunderstruck. He leaned forward to examine the face more closely, and then his heart seemed to stop beating, and with a cry of alarm he sprang to his feet. As much as he feared the Indians, he feared this man more.
"Ah, my young cub, are you thar?" growled the visitor, as he stepped into the lodge.
"Black Bill!" exclaimed Frank, in dismay.
"Ay! That's what they call me. 'Member me, don't you? Heered all about me, most likely, from ole Bob and Dick Lewis. They didn't tell you nothin' good of me, I reckon."
Frank tried to speak, but he seemed to have lost all control over his tongue. He had trembled every time he thought of the night he had passed in the camp of the outlaws, and he had hoped that he should never meet them again; but here he was, face to face with one of them, when he least expected it.
"I didn't kalkerlate on seein' you agin," said the outlaw, with a savage smile, "an' I aint agoin' to say that I'm glad to see you now, 'cause I aint. I hate any body that's a friend to Bob an' Dick, an' if I could have my way I'd split your wizzen fur you in a minit. But you b'long to the chief, an' I don't reckon he would see harm come to you."
"To the chief!" repeated Frank, drawing a long breath as if a heavy load had been removed from his shoulders. It was a great satisfaction to him to know that this man could not do as he pleased with him.
"That's what I said," replied the visitor.
"But what does he want to do with me? What is his object in taking me prisoner?" asked Frank.
"He's goin' to make an Injun of you."
"What! I – you don't mean – "
"Sartin I do. It's a fact. He's goin' to take you into the tribe an' make an Injun of you," said the outlaw, in a louder tone.
"And never let me go home again, but keep me here always?" demanded Frank, growing more and more astonished.
"Exactly!"
"Well, he can't do it – he shan't. I don't want to be adopted into the tribe, and I won't be, either."
"I don't reckon you can help yourself, can you?" said the outlaw, with a grin. "You see, the chief used to have a son just about your age – an' a smart, lively young Injun he was, too; but he was killed a little while ago in a scrimmage with the Blackfeet, an' the chief wants another. You're an amazin' chap fur runnin' an' wrastlin' fur one of your years, an' that's the reason he picked you out."
"I don't care if it is; he sha'n't have me. I won't stay here and be his son. Why, I never heard of such a thing. Why don't he select some Indian boy?"
"That's his business, an' not mine. But if you only knowed it, youngster, it's lucky fur you that the chief tuk sich a monstrous fancy fur you, 'cause if you had stayed at the fort, you would have been massacreed with the rest."
"Massacred!" echoed Frank. "Killed!"
"Yes; killed an' scalped. You'll hear of some fun at that tradin'-post afore you are two days older, an' then, if you go down thar, you won't see nothin' but the ashes of it. It would have been done last night if that ar fur trader had kept away from thar. We had to send off arter more help. I don't mind tellin' you this, 'cause 'taint no ways likely that you'll ever have a chance to blab it. But I come in here to ax you about Adam Brent. Where does he sleep?"
Frank did not reply; indeed, he scarcely heard the question, his mind was so busy with what the outlaw had said to him. He knew now where all those Indians came from, and why they were there. The information he had received almost paralyzed him, and he shuddered when he pictured to himself the scenes of horror that would be enacted in that quiet valley, if the savages were permitted to carry out their designs. What would become of his cousin, of the trappers, of Captain Porter, and of himself? Of course his friends would all be included in the massacre, and he, having no one to look to for help, would be compelled to drag out a miserable existence among those savages. But Frank determined that the massacre should not take place. At the risk of his own life he would do something to stop it. His courage always increased in proportion to the number of obstacles he found in his way, and the danger he was in, and now he was thoroughly reckless and determined.
"I axed you do you know where Adam Brent sleeps?" said the outlaw, who had grown tired of waiting for an answer to his question.
"He sleeps in the house, of course," replied Frank.
"Wal, I reckon I knowed that much afore you told me; but what part of the house?"
"I can't tell. I haven't taken the trouble to inquire into Mr. Brent's family matters."
"I'll allow that you tell the truth thar; 'cause if you had axed any questions, you would know that Brent is my own brother, an' that Adam is my nephew. Aint I a nice lookin' uncle?"
"I don't believe a word of it. What do you want with Adam?
"I reckon that's my business, aint it? I only axed you where he sleeps 'cause I've got something to say to him to-night, an' I shouldn't care to have his father hear me blunderin' about the house. I've got a leetle business with ole Bob Kelly, too."
"If you will take my advice you will let him alone," said Frank. "Dick Lewis is his chum now."
"That don't make no sort of difference to me. I'm half hoss an' half buffaler, with a leetle sprinklin' of catamounts, grizzly bars, an' sich like varmints throwed in. I'm one of them kind of fellers as don't stand no nonsense from nobody; an' I'm the wust man in a rough-an'-tumble this side of the States. I aint afeered of Dick Lewis."
Having said this, the outlaw took his departure, and Frank, who had gone through this interview like one in a dream, again seated himself on the buffalo robes to think over what he had heard, and to determine upon some course of action. He had little imagined that he would ever be placed in a situation like this, and he did not wonder now at the hatred which Dick and old Bob cherished toward the Indians. Here they were, awaiting the arrival of reinforcements, and preparing for a descent on the fort; and there were his friends in the valley, all unconscious of the danger hanging over them. There had been no Indian depredations in that section for a long time, and the officers of the fort and the settlers had been lulled into a feeling of security that promised to be fatal to them. They did not dream of such a thing as an attack; the fortifications had not been kept in a state of defense; and unless they were warned of their danger, the success of the Indians would be complete.
"Oh, if they only knew what is going on here!" cried Frank, springing to his feet, and pacing restlessly up and down the lodge. "If I could see them for just one minute, wouldn't these savages meet with a warm reception when they make the attack on the fort? But how will they find it out unless I carry them the information; and how can I effect my escape, surrounded as I am by enemies?"
This thought made Frank almost beside himself. It rendered him desperate; and he resolved that if he could see the least chance for escape, he would make the attempt at once – that very moment. There was not a single instant to be lost, for there was no telling when the Indians would be ready to make the attack. He rushed to the door, tore it open, and looked out. The first object that met his gaze was a warrior standing close beside the lodge, leaning on his spear. He was undoubtedly a sentry, and had been placed there to watch the prisoner. Frank took one glance at him, and then dropped the door to its place, and hurrying to the other side of the lodge pulled up the skins and looked under them. He saw now what he had not noticed before – that the lodge in which he was confined was in the very center of the village. The nearest wigwams were pitched about fifty yards from it, leaving a clear space on each side that was devoted to the holding of councils and dances. Frank knew that he could never cross that space in broad daylight without being discovered and recaptured, and with a look of disappointment on his face, he dropped the skins and crawled back to his seat on the buffalo robes.
CHAPTER IV
THE TRAPPER A PRISONER
If Frank was disappointed in one respect, he was greatly encouraged in another. He had discovered something that went a long way toward strengthening his hopes of escape, and that was that the Indians were not watching him very closely. The guard at the door had not noticed him when he looked out, and this induced the belief that the chief had placed him there simply to keep Frank from roaming about the village, and not because he feared that his prisoner might attempt to escape. That idea had probably never occurred to him. But the chief did not know much about boys, especially such boys as Frank Nelson. He had yet to learn that the young hunter possessed a goodly share of courage and determination, as well as speed and activity.
Frank lay there on the pile of buffalo robes until dark, and then the door opened, and an old Indian woman came in with a small camp-kettle, which she placed upon the ground in the middle of the lodge, and went out again. The contents of the kettle were smoking hot, and the odor that filled the lodge reminded Frank that he had not lost his appetite, and that he was as hungry as a wolf, in spite of all the excitements of the afternoon. An examination of the kettle showed that it contained buffalo meat. Taking his knife from his pocket, Frank seated himself on the ground and began his supper. It was not quite as good as some he had eaten at his quiet little home on the banks of Glen's Creek, but the buffalo meat was nourishing, and when the last vestige of it had disappeared, Frank arose to his feet, put his knife into his pocket, and declared that he felt better.
"I could run, now, if these Indians would only give me half a chance," said he, to himself. "I may yet show them what I can do, unless they station a sentry at the back of this lodge. Now if I only had a drink of water!"
As Frank said this he went to the door again, and there was the guard, standing in the same position in which he had seen him before, leaning on his spear, and gazing off into vacancy. Frank did not believe that he had moved a muscle during the last two hours.
"I say, old fellow!" he exclaimed, "is there any water about here?" Then, fearing that the savage might not understand him, he made a motion with his hand as though he were drinking from a cup.
The guard did not reply, but beckoned to the prisoner to follow him, and led the way through the village toward the ravine from which the chief and his party had entered the valley. Frank, ever on the alert, exulted at this. He knew that the guard was conducting him to a spring, and he sincerely hoped that it would prove to be outside the village. In that event, one Indian, even though he was armed with a spear, could not prevent him from making at least an attempt at escape. If he could get but two feet the start of the sentry, he believed that he could elude him in the darkness. Unfortunately for the success of these plans, however, the spring was not outside the village. It was but a short distance from the place where he had been confined, and all around it were lodges, beside which stalwart warriors lay upon their blankets, smoking their pipes. The least attempt at escape would have brought them around him like a cloud of mosquitoes. He must wait until some more favorable opportunity.
Frank kneeled down beside the spring, and took a long and refreshing drink, and then quietly followed the guard back to his prison. He looked into the wigwams as he passed along, and now that he had in some measure recovered his usual spirits, he began to be interested in what was going on around him; but he did not see any thing to induce him to give up home and friends, and turn Indian. The idea was a novel one to him, and he could have smiled at it, had it not been for the preparations for battle that were every-where visible in the camp – the horses saddled and waiting, the weapons hung upon the poles of the lodge, where they could be seized at a moment's warning, and the braves in war-paint, ready to move at the word. Frank noticed these things, and thought of his friends at the fort. If the expected reinforcements arrived in time, the savages might make the attack that very night.
When Frank found himself once more inside his prison, he stretched himself on the buffalo robes, and waited impatiently for the Indians to go to sleep. How wearily the hours dragged by, and how Frank alternated between hope and fear, can be imagined better than we can describe it. Sometimes he looked upon his escape as an assured thing. When the Indians were all asleep, it would be a matter of but little difficulty for him to creep out of the lodge, and make his way through the village to the ravine. It was easy enough for him to sit there on the buffalo robes and think about it, but when he imagined himself doing it, and pictured to himself the dangers in his way, his hopes fell again; and then, had it not been for the remembrance of what the outlaw had told him, he would have been tempted to abandon all thoughts of escape. If it would have required all the skill and cunning that Dick and Bob possessed to outwit the savages in a case like this, what could an inexperienced boy of sixteen do?
Frank thought the Indians did not intend to go to sleep at all that night. He heard them moving about until a late hour, and it was midnight before the silence that reigned in the camp told him that if he ever intended to carry out the plans he had determined upon, the time had come to do it. His heart beat fast and furiously as he pulled off his shoes, and moved noiselessly across the lodge toward the corner in which the chief had deposited his blanket and spear. He was very deliberate in his movements, and there was need of all his caution; for the guard stood almost within reach of him, and the slightest noise inside the lodge would have brought him in there immediately. Frank threw the chief's blanket over his shoulders, put on the head-dress, picked up the spear, and crept cautiously across the lodge. He threw himself upon his hands and knees, and after listening a moment to assure himself that the guard had not been alarmed, he lifted up the skins which formed the wall of the lodge, and looked out. The camp was as silent as though it had been deserted. On every hand he could see the smoldering embers of the fires by which the savages had cooked their suppers, but not a living being was in sight. Drawing in a long breath he crawled slowly out of the lodge, and after lingering a moment to arrange the blanket about his shoulders, he grasped the spear firmly in his hand, and stole away into the darkness, looking back now and then to make sure that he was keeping the lodge between him and the guard. An intervening row of wigwams finally shut his prison from his sight, and Frank began to congratulate himself on having accomplished the most difficult part of his undertaking.