"Hurra!" fairly shouted Elwood, "you are as good as Tim at making a bargain."

"She must live somewhere about here, and no doubt will tell how she got the watch, and that may set some of her friends on our track."

"Let 'em come," said Tim. "I've a gun that I larned how to shoot, and that blanket we can wrap around us, and I don't believe you could shoot a bullet through it by raison of its thickness."

The party resumed their journey, quite jubilant over the rifle and blanket. They still needed but one thing, or rather two things, guns for the boys. Terror was such a sharp and faithful sentinel they would have felt almost safe with these additional fire-arms. Howard and Elwood were quite confident that they could shoot with remarkable precision, although, neither had ever aimed or discharged a gun; but in this respect they were not so very different from other boys.

At noon they made a hearty meal upon a portion of what still remained of the mountain sheep, and then stretched themselves out for an hour's rest. Tim O'Rooney was plentifully supplied with tobacco, and perhaps could not have felt more comfortable or satisfied with his situation. He lolled on the grass, and wondered whether Mr. Lawrence was anxious for him to get home or not, finally reaching the conclusion that he was rather indifferent upon the subject himself. The greatest distress of Howard and Elwood was the pain that their parents would feel regarding them; but they hoped to reach home without great delay, when they would quickly turn their weeping into joy.

The two could not grow weary of admiring their beautiful blanket. It was a wonderful affair indeed, and doubtless contained within it enough material to supply a "shoddy" contractor with the basis for a thousand army blankets. The boys would have willingly given both their watches for it and considered themselves greatly the gainers. They looked upon it as their joint property.

"I do believe it is rifle-proof," said Howard. "The fine threads of which it is composed are woven so compactly that you can hardly distinguish them."

"I should be rather fearful of risking a rifle-shot from any one if that were all that protected me."

"We can easily test it. Let's hung it up and shoot a bullet at it."

"No, that would be too bad. The ball might go through, and then it would be spoiled in its looks. Now it seems really perfect——"

"I say, me boys——"

Tim's utterance was checked by the discharge of a rifle and the near whistle of the bullet. He started up and glanced around him.

"Injuns, or me name isn't Tim O'Rooney, from Tipperary, Ireland, the gem of the say!"



CHAPTER XIV.

A STRANGE OCCURRENCE.

On a slight eminence, about an eighth of a mile south of them, stood the solitary Indian who had fired the alarming shot, he was in open view, as though he had no fears of the results of his challenge, and appeared to be surveying the white people with an air of curiosity that they should presume to encroach upon his hunting-grounds.

"If yez manes that, there's two of us, as me brother Pat towld the judge when he called him a good-for-nothing dog."

With which exclamation Tim O'Rooney sighted his rifle at the aborigine, and taking a tedious, uncomfortable aim, pulled the trigger, and then lowered his piece and stared at his target to watch the result. The Indian stood as motionless as a statue, and finally the Irishman drew a deep sigh.

"I wonder whether the bullet has reached him yet?"

"Reached him!" laughed Howard. "I saw it clip off a piece of rock fully forty feet from him."

"Worrah, worrah! but I've ate so much dinner I can't howld the gun stiddy."

"I saw it vibrate——"

"Look out! he's going to shoot again!" called Elwood, as he and Howard dropped on their faces. "Get down, Tim, or he'll hit you. He's a better marksman than you are."

"Who cares——Heaven! save me!"

The second discharge sent the bullet within a few inches of the Irishman's face, and somewhat alarmed him.

"Load quick!" admonished Howard, "and shelter yourself, or you are a dead man."

The Irishman obeyed this, and had his gun reloaded in a few moments.

"Now let me try my hand," said Elwood; "you can never hit him."

"Be all manes, if yez wish it."

"The piece is too heavy for me to shoot off-hand and I'll rest it on my knee."

The boy took the gun, and placing the barrel on his knee, drew back the hammer, when presto! the savage whisked out of sight like magic. The noble aborigine had come to the conclusion that discretion was the better part of valor.

"Where is he?" asked the bewildered boy, rising to his feet and looking around him.

"He is gone," replied Howard.

"I admire his sense; he doesn't care about being shot just yet."

Howard laughed.

"You have a good opinion of your marksmanship, Elwood, and he seems to fear you more than Tim."

"But he didn't give me time to practice on 'im," said the latter. "If he had stood there an hour or two I'd hit him sure."

"Yes, and he would have picked you off at the next fire. He's a good marksman at any rate."

They kept their position for some time, but saw nothing more of the Indian.

"He has left," said Elwood, "and will give us a wide berth after this."

"It was rather curious that he should expose himself in that manner."

"Perfectly natural," replied Elwood. "He knew there was no danger until I took the gun; then he thought it best for him to clear out."

"He may turn up again when we least expect it."

"Do yees understand the maning of that?"

"Not precisely; do you?"

"He's a lover of the fair female that ye gave the watch to for the blanket, and he had been watchin' us till he sane me, and then he got so jailous of me that he has tried to put me out of the way."

The boys laughed at this explanation, which Tim gave with every appearance of earnestness, and were rather doubtful about believing it.

There was some fear expressed that this Indian might send them a bullet from some covert, when he could make his aim sure and shelter himself from all danger of a return fire; although as regards that the specimen he had been given of the skill of the whites should have convinced him that there was no need of his being particularly alarmed on this point.

Our friends were sufficiently rested, and the associations of the place were such that they resumed their journey at once toward the Salinas river. They had gone but a short distance when Howard exclaimed:

"Halloo! yonder goes that Indian!"

He pointed in the direction of the river fully a mile away, and looking there they saw very near the center of the stream a small Indian canoe, propelled by a single occupant. The distance was so great that they could decide nothing regarding his dress and appearance, and for a time it was doubtful whether there were one or two in the boat. They were sure, however, that it was the same personage that had so startled them, and that he was returning to his home.

"That looks as though he did not belong to these parts," said Elwood, "and seems to throw doubt on his being the young squaw's lover."

"And it's a qua'r lover the same would be if he wouldn't go five hundred miles for the smile of his beloved. Begorrah! but it was meself that used to walk five miles and back agin ivery Sunday night in Tipperary to see Bridget Ann Mulloney, and then lost her after all when I'd spent almost half a pound on her."

"There's another thing I'd like to buy, beside our rifles," said Elwood.

"What is that?"

"A canoe. See how smoothly the savage floats down the river. The current is quite rapid, and it would take very little labor for us to make much better headway than we now do.'"

"But we do not know how to paddle one of those frail concerns."

"We could learn soon enough."

"We may find one of them along the shore, as there seem to be plenty of Indians hereabouts, and I suppose every one of them is the proprietor of one of these establishments."

"It isn't likely if yees finds one ye'll find the owner," said Tim, "and I s'pose your conscience wouldn't let you take it unless you made a fair bargain with the owner."

"I don't know," laughed Howard, "but what under the circumstances we could persuade ourselves to take it."

In the course of a few hours they found themselves in the vicinity of the Salinas River, and turned to the left so as to follow its windings as nearly as possible to the mouth, where they hoped to secure safer and speedier transportation to their homes.

At night when they encamped the soft murmur of the river was in their ears, and the cool, dry wind fanned them quietly as they sat down near a cluster of thick cottonwood to smoke their pipe, chat and prepare for the night's rest. They made a good meal from their mountain sheep, and gorging Terror, threw the rest away as they deemed it hardly fit for further use.

It was quite late when they camped. Tim would have nothing to do with the blanket, so the boys spread it upon the earth, lay down upon it, and then drew the borders over them.

Wearied out they soon fell asleep, depending, under the kindness of heaven, upon the watchfulness of the faithful Newfoundland that had never yet proved unfaithful to his trust.

In the middle of the night Elwood awoke from a feeling of uncomfortable warmth, and threw the blanket off and slept thus until morning. He was the first to awake, just as light was dawning, and was on the point of rising when he started and became suddenly transfixed with horror at a sight directly before his eyes!



CHAPTER XV.

THE CROTALUS.

There are several species of rattlesnakes found in California, among which are the black, spotted and striped. Some of them grow to an enormous size and are anything but pleasant strangers to encounter, especially when you come upon them suddenly and find them coiled. It is a peculiarity of these specimens of the Crotalus of America that they strike only from the coil, are easily killed, and generally, although not always, do they rattle before they dart forward their poisonous fangs.

We can conceive of nothing upon the face of this beautiful earth more shudderingly repulsive than a rattlesnake. The arrowy head, and shiny, flabby body, with its glistening scales and variegated color, its tapering tail, with that dreadful arrangement by which it imitates so closely the whirr of the locust, the bead-like eyes, with no lids and a fleshy film dropping over them—all these make up the most terrible reptile found on the American continent.

And then imagine one of these creatures coiled! The thick, heavy body with the tail projecting upward from the center, the head drawn back, and the red, cavernous mouth open, with the curved, hollow teeth and the sacs at their roots filled nigh to bursting with this concentrated essence of the vilest of all poison—imagine this, we say—but don't do it either! If you have never seen a rattlesnake, don't go near one, unless you have a chance to kill it, even if his fangs have been extracted. The heel shall bruise the serpent, and that is the best use to which they can be put.

But as Howard Lawrence opened his eyes, in the dull light of this summer morning, he saw coiled within five feet of him a striped rattlesnake, its intensely black eyes fairly scintillating light, and its rattle gently waving but making no noise.

In a single second his true peril flashed upon him. If he moved the reptile would strike. He might throw himself suddenly backward, but in that case if he escaped, the malignant fangs would be buried in the sleeping Elwood ere he could open his eyes and understand the danger that threatened him. And he was afraid, too, to speak to him and Tim in the hope of awaking them. There would be blundering upon their part, and blundering meant but one thing—death.

Howard looked straight at the serpent's eyes and became conscious of a strange sensation passing through him. The small, black orbs seemed to advance, shrink and float away through the air, enchaining his own vision until the will, which had so vehemently repelled the danger grew indifferent, and the thought of peril merged into a vague, dreamy semi-consciousness, which, while it took knowledge of the terrible reptile, coiled and ready to strike, yet failed to impress the mind with the energy to withdraw from its terrible power. His blood slowly chilled, as if vein by vein it froze throughout his person, until from head to foot the vital current was congealed. At times he strove to move, or more properly sought, in the mysterious make-up of our composition, to rouse the will from its torpor, but with the same result as follows the effort of the sufferer to use his paralyzed limb. The will seemed to make a feeble twitch or two and then subside, unable to break the fatal spell spreading over his mind and faculties. The eyes of the reptile glared upon his own, their bead-like blackness taking the form of a point of fire waving, floating, gyrating and circling in the air, doubling in and out in rings of the rainbow's hues, melting away into the distance, then drifting forward until mingled with his own, up and down in the same bewildering maze of color and design that visits the patient when lost in the delirium of fever. And all the time it was as if the rattlesnake was conscious of the dreadful power he held over his victim. Its arrowy head and long neck were started silently toward him, as if threatening instant destruction; and then, like the cat toying with her victim, it was withdrawn again, and the spell deepened and increased. A strange whirl passed through the mind of the boy. By a violent attempt to call in his wandering thoughts he gathered an idea of the mortal danger impending over him, but he could not centralize his mental powers.

The bewildering sensations were somewhat similar to that of a man whose brain has received a violent concussion—the mysterious chambers and channels through which thought forced its way were choked up and the subtle impetus recoiled, powerless to perform its function. He felt the necessity of clear, vigorous thought, but his dull brain would not work—the cold incubus upon it chilled it through and through; and all the time the malignantly beautiful reptile was partly coiling and uncoiling, the articulated ring giving a faint rattle, as if caused by the slight vibration of its body. After a while the serpent lay still, but never once was its eye removed from its victim. It was growing tired of dallying with its prey and was making ready to strike. The coil became close and compact, the rattle rising from the center, and the eye assumed a clear, metallic sharpness that appeared to throw forward its fateful rays into his own. He saw that the sport was done and the snake was ready to strike; he strove to move, but could not; he essayed to speak, but the words choked him unuttered. He saw the reptile calling in its strength and——

"Quick, Howard, draw the blanket over you! He can't strike through that!"

The practical, energetic words of Elwood Brandon, whom he had imagined asleep at his side, broke the dreadful spell that had enchained Howard. He felt the mist pass from his eyes, his mind threw off the incubus which had borne it down, and he was himself again, with clear mental powers.

His right hand lay upon the thick blanket, and sensible of his extreme peril, he quickly closed it, grasping the edge firmly, and then threw himself over upon his face and against his cousin, but covering both their bodies at the same instant with the heavy, closely-knit cloth.

At the very moment of doing so the angry locust-like ring of the reptile and a sharp thrust against the blanket as if struck by a small stick announced that it has given its blow.

Howard and Elwood both shouted to Tim to come to their assistance; but ere he could respond a rush was heard, followed by a fierce growl, and they understood at once that Terror had appeared upon the scene.

They let him rage for a few moments and then, Tim having informed them that the snake was "kilt entirely," they cautiously crept forth. As they looked furtively around they saw at once that the Newfoundland had done his work well. The reptile was torn into shreds and strewn over an area of several yards. Its fangs had entered the blanket where, while they did not pierce through they stuck irrevocably, holding the reptile a prisoner to the fury of the dog.

Thankful indeed were the boys for their providential escape from this dreaded creature. Elwood had been awakened by its slight rattling, when, suspecting the danger that was closing around his cousin, he uttered the warning words which we have given and which proved the means of robbing the blow of the reptile of its danger.

The fangs were carefully extracted from the blanket, and Howard declared his intention of preserving them as a curiosity; but within a half-hour after leaving the camp they were lost, and he did not judge it worth while to search for them.



CHAPTER XVI.

THE CAMP-FIRE.

As our three friends on that bright summer morning stood on the slope of the mountains and gazed down into the beautiful Salinas Valley before them, Elwood Brandon suddenly pointed a little to the north and said:

"See! there are others beside us!"

About a mile distant, and not far from the river, they saw a thin, black column of smoke rising among the trees, of so dark and palpable a character that it could be distinguished at once.

"Another party of Indians," replied Howard. "We seem to be getting into their neighborhood."

"I only wish they were a party of white hunters or miners, for I long to see a friendly face."

"What good could it do us? They wouldn't accompany us home, or take any trouble to see that we were protected."

"Perhaps not, but I tell you, Howard, this begins to look dangerous when we see nothing but enemies. There are but three of us, and one gun only between us. I believe a single Indian could destroy us all if he chose to do so."

"Except in one contingency."

"What is that?"

"That you should aim the gun. He would then flee at once."

Elwood laughed and added:

"But we have no breakfast, and we may as well be moving."

"You're a sensible boy," added Tim O'Rooney, "be the towken that when ye spakes ye quiverally anticipates me own thoughts."

They soon reached the level of the valley, and then took a direction straight toward the spot where they had seen the camp-fire burning. The intervening space was quite thickly grown with trees and vegetation, so that they could obtain no sight of the fire itself until they were very close to it.

"We must be careful," admonished Howard. "If it is a party of Indians they may discover us before we do them."

"I don't suppose it will do for us all to walk straight up to them, for they'll be sure to see us then."

"No, one must creep up and find whether the coast is clear. Tim has seen more of California than we have, and he can do that if he wishes."

"Sinsible agin, for I was about to spake the same. Do yees tarry here while I takes a look around. Whist! now, and kaap so still that ye'll hear me brathe all the way there and back agin."

The boys took their position each behind a large tree, and looking cautiously forth they awaited the return of their friend.

When these precautions were taken they were not a hundred yards distant from the strangers. The Irishman stepped very carefully, moving on tiptoe, and not making any noise that was perceptible. This was no great attainment in woodcraft, as any person could have done the same with ordinary care, when the woods were of the character of this one. Had there been briers or brambles, or swampy ground, or that which was unusually dry, and covered with twigs, it would have been a feat far more difficult of attainment.

Just before Tim disappeared from view they saw him sink down upon his hands and knees and creep forward; but the bushes soon shut him out from view and they could only wait with all the patience possible.

At the end of about ten minutes the genial face of the Irishman appeared, and the expression upon it gave rise to pleasant anticipations.

"Who are they?" asked the two boys together, as soon as they deemed it prudent.

"Whist! now don't spake so loud. Ye'll wake 'em out."

Tim looked behind, and became satisfied that there was no fear of discovery, when he arose to his feet, and took his careless, sauntering manner.

"Well, Tim!'" said Howard inquiringly.

"What is it yez wishes?"

"We wish to know whether these strangers are white men or Indians."

"Well, ye saas, I had to crawl up to 'em mighty careful, for if you step upon a stick no bigger than a tooth-pick, yees are sortin to wake up a slaapin' copper-skin——"

"So they were Indians, then," interrupted Elwood somewhat impatiently.

"Do yes be aisy now, and not be interruptin' of me, and yer observations and questions which ain't naaded in this case. Me owld grandfather used to till a great many stories to us spalpaans about the part he took with young Emmett—when owld Ireland stood up against England. He used to tell us his stories—did the same—and just so sure as one of us axed him a question, he'd go back to the beginning and till the whole story over again. He'd begin airly in the evening, and kaap it going till tin or eleven o'clock. I belave the old gintleman rather liked to have us be interruptin' him, for he laid bates for us wee ones, and ye see by that manes one story sometimes kept him going for a waak. Heaven bliss the owld gintleman—he had a habit of stopping in the middle of an exciting part and lighting his dudheen, and then when he'd begin again, he'd skip over a part on purpose to make us ax him a question——"

"Well, Tim, we will talk about your grandfather some other day," said Howard, who, as naturally may be supposed, was impatient for him to come to the point.

"Yis, I was just through with him, but yees should never be overmuch in haste. Me blessed mother always told me that it was the same as being too slow, and if anybody could spake of the same, could me mother do it. I was about to obsarve when yees interrupted me, that a man must be mighty careful in going up to a camp-fire, for these Indians slaap so quietly that the overturning of a leaf is sure to wake 'em, and you saa by this, if we'd all three gone up, as we war thinkin' about, they'd heard us long before we could have got sight of 'em, and our tramping in Californy would be done with——"

"So they were Indians were they?" asked Elwood again, partly amused and partly vexed at Tim's persistent dallying with their curiosity.

"Who said the same?"

"You implied it. Were they red or white men? Answer us—yes or no!"

"And that is just the pint I's raching for, as me frind, Michael O'Shanghangly, said when he took a half-quart of whisky. Yez understands that I wanted to make sure just who the same might be, and what was their number. 'Spose, now, I should have come back and said there war but three of the same, and there should be a half-dozen, or I should say they was white gintlemen like ourselves, and they should turn out to be of a darker hue. Ye saas that it wouldn't do."

The boys had become so uneasy by this time that they were walking back and forth, and talking to each other in low tones.

"I will go forward and see for myself," said Elwood. "I don't care about waiting an hour or two for him to answer my question."

"He will soon answer us; he is only indulging in a little pleasantry."

"Rather a bad time for jesting."

"I think we can be sure of one thing," added Howard a moment later.

"What is that?"

"That we are not in much danger. If we were he wouldn't wait so long to tell us."

"I don't know about that; it would be in keeping with his foolishness. I tell you, Howard, I will ask him once more, and if he doesn't answer me at once, I shall go forward and learn for myself."

"Well, do so."

"Tim, are those Indians or white men?"

"That's it, is it? Why didn't yez ax me before? They're a party of white men, be the same!"



CHAPTER XVII.

THE MINERS.

"I wished to give yez a pleasant surprise, as the doctor said when he told the man that his wife was dead," remarked Tim, in explanation of his conduct. "Had there really been any of the red gintlemen around I'd have told you soon enough."

Our young friends were too well pleased at the intelligence to feel other than good natured, and they gladly forgave Tim for his trespass upon their patience. Without waiting further they walked hastily forward, and a moment later stood by the camp-fire.

Three men, apparently, had just aroused themselves from slumber, and were now stirring around making preparations for their breakfast. They were shaggy, unshorn, grimy-looking fellows, who had "run wild" for several years, but who had not necessarily lost their humanity, even though they had in a great degree lost its outward semblance. In the center, a large bundle of sticks were burning quite briskly, and one of the men was turning and watching some meat that was cooking over it. The others had evidently just returned from the river, for their red temples and foreheads still glistened with moisture which sparkled like dew on their patriarchal beards.

They were rough, hardy-looking fellows, but Elwood felt little apprehension as he stepped forward and said:

"Good morning, gentlemen!"

He who was cook turned his head, but a hot drop of moisture from the steaming meat at that moment flew in his eye, and clapping his finger to it, he muttered something, and forthwith and instantly gave his exclusive attention to his culinary duties.

The second man was rubbing his face with a piece of coarse cloth, and he suddenly paused with his black eyes glaring over the top, his face resembling the head of some huge animal clambering over the edge of a rock, and who, having just gained a foothold, is looking hurriedly around for his prey.

The third was combing his hair, and just at this moment it was moistened and sticking straight over his forehead like the horn of an animal. He would run the comb through with his right hand and then smooth the hair with his left. He stopped with both arms crooked over his head, and wheeled around like an automaton, and stared at the boy a moment, and then said:

"Well, there! Why didn't you ring the door-bell? I say, youngster, come forward and give us a grip of your hand. Halloo! you've got your brother with you!"

"Not my brother, but my cousin, Howard Lawrence."

The two boys shook hands with the three, and the grip that they received from the horny palms made them wince with pain.

"But where'd you come from? We don't see a couple of youngsters dressed up in your style promenading 'round in these parts every day. Where'd you come from?"

"The steamer on which we took passage the other day from Panama, was burned off the coast, and we got ashore on a raft."

"Be you the only ones?"

"No; there were quite a number that escaped."

"Where be they?"

"They were carried away by a vessel while we had wandered inland."

"And you two—halloo! here's your grandfather!"

"No; that is Tim O'Rooney, a good friend of ours."

"Your humble sarvint!" saluted the Irishman, removing his hat, making a profound bow and scraping a large foot upon the ground.

"Well, there! We're glad to see you. What's all your names?"

They were given several times, and then carefully spelled at the request of the large-whiskered man, who desired that no mistake might be made.

"You may call me Ned Trimble, and that ugly-looking fellow 'tending to the fire is George Wakeman, and that horrid-looking chap scrubbing off his dirty face, is Alfred Wilkins. Neither of them know much, and I brought them along to black my boots and dress my hair."

It looked as though Ned was a sort of a wag, for his companions smiled as if they were used to that thing. He continued:

"We're a party of hunters that have been in Californy for the last five years, and I rather guess I've prospected through every part of it."

"You must be rich by this time."

"Rich!" laughed Ned Trimble. "Well there, we're everything but rich. Somehow or other we hain't had the luck. We sold a claim up in the diggings for five hundred dollars, and the next week the party sold it for fifteen thousand. That's the way it has always gone with us; but we are going to be rich yet—ain't we, boys."

"Yes, if we only live long enough," replied Wakeman.

"I told you that chap hadn't much sense," remarked Ned, addressing his three visitors. "He doesn't know enough to answer a question as he oughter. I've been trying to teach him something, but I shall have to give it up as a bad job. Been to breakfast?"

"No—not yet."

"Thought you hadn't. Cook, put up another slice, douse it in butter, salt and pepper, and serve it up as you used to do when I employed you at the Astor. Gentlemen, how do you like it, rare or well done?"

All made answer that they were not particular, and Ned replied thereunto as follows:

"Sensible fellows! If you don't care what you get, you won't have to care much for what you don't get. What will you select as a dessert? Plum, rice, bread, or cherry pudding? Apple, mince, cranberry, plum, peach, or lemon pie? Cup-custard, tapioca, watermelon, citron, or sherry, maderia, or port. Order which ever you choose, gentlemen, it don't make any difference to us. We can give you one just as well as the other."

"I suppose you can," laughed Howard; "so we'll not take the trouble to order any."

"All right; as you please, gentlemen. We haven't any turkey or oysters left so you will have to put up with a little antelope that we shot yesterday afternoon. Fine condition for this time of year, and the best kind of flesh to starve to death on."

"We haven't had a taste of it yet; but we devoured a goodly piece of a mountain sheep."

"Just so. I was going to speak of a mountain sheep, if my servants hadn't interrupted me so often with inquiries as to how they should make the wine sauce. Ah! I see our meal is ready; we will therefore repair to the banquet hall."

The six took their seats upon the leaves, and ate the meal in the usual primitive manner, verifying the adage, "hunger is the best sauce."

Ned Trimble enlivened the meal in his usual loquacious manner; and after a great many words and circumlocution, the fact was discovered that he and his friends had spent the last five years in California, not having visited a civilized post within two years.

Disgusted with their ill success in the Sacramento Valley, they had pulled up stakes and started off to hunt new fields for themselves. They were very cheerful and hopeful, and according to their accounts had encountered every imaginable danger of the California wilds.

Elwood inquired whether they had met any grizzly bears.

"Grizzly bears!" repeated Ned, stopping just as he was about to insert a huge piece of meat in his mouth. "Grizzly bears? Well, there! We've lived among 'em!"

"Is it possible?"

"Yes; I tracked a big grizzly in the Sierra Nevada for two days and then I stopped."

"What made you stop?"

"I concluded the bear tracks were getting a little too fresh!"



CHAPTER XVIII.

A WANT SUPPLIED.

One thing attracted the notice and pleased our friends, and gave them a hope of being able to supply a want they had felt every moment since landing upon the California coast. Each of the miners had two rifles, and were abundantly supplied with ammunition and mining tools. The wonder was how they could carry so heavy a load for such a distance. It could not be understood until Ned Trimble stated that they had two good, tough mules pasturing in a secluded place about a half-mile distant.

"That 'ere Injin blanket you're carryin' is rather pretty!" remarked Ned as he rubbed his greasy fingers through his hair.

"Yes, we got it of an Indian girl, and take great pride in it."

"You did, eh? What did you give her for it?"

"A gold watch."

"Ah! Well, if the watch was a first-rate one maybe she got her pay; but what did she want with a watch? That's just the way with all women. They'll give ten times the value for some little gewgaw to wear about 'em. I was engaged to a fine-looking girl in North Carolina, but I seen she was getting so extravagant that I couldn't understand it, so I left before it was too late."

"A very wise plan."

"Yes, she was very extravagant."

"In what respect?" asked Elwood, who was quite amused at their newly-found friend.

"Well, you see, she would persist in wearing shoes on Sunday instead of going barefoot like the rest of the young ladies. I warned her two or three times, but I catched her at church one day with them on, and so I went over to the house that night and told her I couldn't trust her any longer, and we exchanged presents and parted."

"Exchanged presents?" laughed Wakeman. "What sort of presents were they?"

"I wish no trifling insinuations, sir," replied Ned, with a grandiloquent air. "She returned to me a tooth brush that I had presented her some months before, and I gave back to her a tin button that she had bought of a traveling peddler, and that I had been wearing on Sundays for my breastpin. 'Tis not the intrinsic worth you know, but the associations connected with such things that makes 'em dear. But it is a painful subject, gentlemen, and let us, therefore, dismiss it."

Howard and Lawrence thought it best to introduce the matter upon which they had been so long meditating.

"I notice that each of you have two guns apiece. Did you leave San Francisco with that supply?"

"No; we've got 'em of the redskins we've run agin on the way."

"Would you be willing to sell us a couple? You observe we have but one between us, and it makes it rather dangerous, as none of us are very skillful in the use of the rifle."

"You needn't take the trouble to tell us that," replied Ned, with a quizzical look. "I'd like to accommodate you, but we had begun to think that we needed three or four guns apiece; for, you see, we intend to stay in these parts some time, and we are sure to have trouble with the redskins."

"If you really wish them," remarked Elwood, "of course we cannot ask you to part with them."

"What'll you give?" abruptly asked Ned.

"What will you take?"

"I couldn't sell you both of mine, as I wouldn't have one; but, Wakeman, if I part with one of mine will you do the same?"

"Yes; for I know they'll need the arms before they get back to San Francisco."

"Then the question is, what will you ask us for the two guns?"

"Can you give us a hundred dollars?"

"Apiece?"

"No, no, no; for both of 'em."

"Yes; we will gladly do that."

Now came the crisis. The party had not a dozen dollars among them. Howard and Elwood had left their money in the berth of the steamer, and of course it was irrevocably gone. But Elwood's watch remained, and that at the least calculation was worth one hundred and fifty; but whether the miners would accept it at a fair valuation for their pieces, was in their minds very doubtful.

"We have no money," said Howard, "but my cousin has a watch that is worth more than that sum, which he will give you for the two guns."

"Let's see it."

It was produced and passed around the company. Ned opened and shut it, and shook it and placed it to his ear.

"It ain't running," he suddenly said.

"No; the salt water has stopped it, but I do not think it is really injured. A little cleaning will speedily set it going."

Ned passed the time-piece back again.

"Don't want it; it won't do us no good."

"But you are hunting for gold, and there is enough in it to make it worth your while to take it."

"We expect to find all the gold we can carry back with us without loading our mules down with gold watches."

Elwood replaced the watch in his pocket, disheartened at the failure of his offer.

"We have no money; if you will call at my father's the next time you go to San Francisco, he will gladly give you your price."

"Don't know as we shall go to San Francisco for the next five years; shan't go any way until we are loaded down with gold, and then we won't care about calling on your father—more likely he'll want to call on us."

An idea struck Howard.

"You are pleased with our blanket. Will you exchange your guns for that?"

Ned shook his head.

"Got all the blankets we want; don't want it; keep it yourself."

"Will you not give us one gun for both the blanket and watch?"

The miner now laughed, and shook his head again.

"Don't want either; can't do it."

The boys now despaired.

"Well, we may as well give up. We can't get any guns of you."

"What is the reason you can't?"

"You seem unwilling to trade, and we can not buy them."

"Of course you can't; but——"

And thereupon the miner rose to his feet and handed one gun to Elwood and the other to Howard.

"What does this mean?" asked the latter, not comprehending him.

"You don't suppose we would be mean enough to sell you anything you needed so bad, do you? No; take them both, and here's a lot of lead, gun-caps and ammunition."

"But——"

"No buts about it. Take 'em, you're welcome, for you need 'em. I was only joking with you."



CHAPTER XIX.

THE CANOE.

Ned Trimble would not hear the repeated thanks of our friends, but waved them an impressive and magnificent farewell as they took their departure. They were not yet beyond sight of each other when they heard him calling to them in excited tones, and the next moment he came running after them.

"I think you said you was going to undertake to foller the river down the valley, didn't you?"

They made answer that such was their intention, whereupon he hastened to add:

"About a mile down, under some bushes that stick out by a big rock, on the same side that you're traveling, is a little Injin canoe that is just the thing you want. You're welcome to it."

"But how shall we thank you?"

"I don't know; again, my noble friends, I bid thee farewell, and if forever, still forever, fare thee well."

The eccentric miner lifted his hat, bowed very low, and sauntered back to his friends with the air of a monarch who had just indulged in some gracious act of condescension, while our friends, delighted beyond measure, hurried forward on their journey.

They were now amply provided—each having a gun and plenty of ammunition, and their faithful dog. They began to look upon themselves as on a holiday excursion. The only thing was, that there was rather too strong a tinge of danger about it. If they were but a hundred or two miles nearer home, and their parents had no anxiety regarding them, it would be more pleasant. But then, they could easily understand how much worse it easily could be, and they were heartfelt at the good fortune which had followed them thus far on their strange entry into California. The most that they could ask was that it might continue.

Elwood and Howard were anxious to test their marksmanship, but prudence forbade it, as the chances were that they would need all their ammunition, and the report of their guns might draw inconvenient attention to themselves.

They were walking cheerily along when a singular object caught their eyes. At first sight it resembled an Indian hut; but it was much too small to be inhabited by a human being, and therefore must have been the handiwork of some animal.

"Shall we batter it down?" asked Elwood.

"No; we do not know what is in it, and there is no use of wantonly destroying the home of any dumb creature."

"It reminds me of me birthplace in ould Ireland," said Tim, with a sigh.

But Terror was not so considerate as his masters; for bursting forward he placed his snout at the lower orifice, snuffed furiously, and then clawed so savagely that the greater part of the singular fabric came tumbling to the ground. It was made of brush and twigs, and like everything constructed by instinct, was put together with great skill. Terror could not be restrained until he had inflicted great injury.

"Look! what are they?" exclaimed Howard in astonishment. "What strange-looking creatures!"

"Snapping tortles!" replied Tim, staring with an expression of the greatest astonishment at the objects.

Three animals, about the size of a musk-rat, with webbed feet, and the color of mice, came scrambling forth and scampered away for the shelter of the rocks.

Terror by this time had been brought under restraint, and was prevented from crushing them to death as they ran.

Great speculation was caused by their appearance, as none of our friends had seen anything like them, nor had they ever heard or read of such. They were, in fact, a species of mountain rat living in the vicinity of mountains and constructing their singular-looking huts with remarkable skill, often building them to a height of six feet. Their fur is very fine, and the hunters and trappers frequently take the animals for their coats, although their diminutive size, when compared with the beaver, otter, and other fur-bearing animals, prevents their being much in demand.

The hunters, as perhaps it is proper to term them, were too anxious to discover the canoe to pause long at any curiosity unless it was something extraordinary. They carefully noted the distance they journeyed, and when they judged they had gone about a mile, stepped into the edge of the river and looked about them. But they saw nothing answering to Ned Trimble's description of the hiding-place of the boat.

"Perhaps he was jesting," remarked Elwood.

"No; I think he is too kind-hearted for that. He may have been mistaken as to whether it is precisely a mile or not."

"Whist! but it strikes me that the bushes are rather thick just ayonst you."

Tim pointed to a spot a hundred rods away which had failed to arrest their attention. There was nothing unusual, except mayhap that the overhanging shrubbery was rather denser than usual; but it held out hope, and the party hurried pell-mell to the spot.

There, sure enough, they descried the rock, and lifting the bushes, caught sight of the small, delicate canoe concealed beneath. Elwood was in the advance, and quickly pulled it forth with the wildest expressions of delight.

"Isn't it splendid!" he fairly shouted. "And here is a long paddle. Our work is now done."

"Do yees jist stand up in the same," said Tim, "and see what a beautiful rest it gives to the faat."

The impulsive boy caught up the paddle, and rose to his feet; but it was like unto him who first puts on skates. It flashed from beneath him, and he was precipitated headlong into the water. The others, as a matter of course, laughed.

"That was done on purpose," said Elwood as he clambered to his feet again.

"I wished to give yees a little insthruction, and that was me first lesson."

"Well, I learned considerable at any rate."

The canoe was caught, and the three carefully entered and seated themselves. It was made of bark, bound together with cord and gum, and would have held double their weight, being very light and buoyant.

A vast amount of sport was afforded the party in learning to navigate the frail vessel. Tim had had some experience in the matter, and could propel it quite dexterously; but the boys were much at fault: they expended far more strength than there was any need for, and soon exhausted themselves so thoroughly that they were obliged to relinquish the sole management of the boat into the hands of Tim O'Rooney.

"There's a bootiful current here," said he, "and we can have the illegant pleasure of moving along without working ourselves, as me frind, Michael McGubbens, said when they carried him off to Botany Bay."

The Irishman first dipped his paddle upon the one side and then upon the other, and imparted quite a velocity to the canoe. The boys were so pleased with the easy, gliding motion that they failed to notice the shores they were passing between. When finally Tim lay down his paddle and rested they were charmed.

All were tired enough to make them enjoy this relaxation and the sensation of floating so idly forward. The sky was clear and almost free of clouds, the dry air was not uncomfortably warm, and an occasional breeze that came floating apparently from the snowy peaks of the Coast Range imparted delicious coolness. On the left stretched the high hills intervening between them and the Pacific, and on the right rose the vast Coast Mountains, forming in its extensive line some of the finest scenery on the North American Continent.

By-and-by, as they rounded a bend in the river, a small island appeared near the center of the channel.

"There we will rest," said Howard.

A half-hour later the canoe lightly touched the shore, and springing out they pulled it up on the land after them. They had scarcely done so when a groan very near them startled them all.

"Whisht!" whispered Tim; "there's somebody else beside us on this island."



CHAPTER XX.

SHASTA, THE PAH UTAH.

All three paused and listened. For a moment all was still; and then the suppressed groan of distress was heard, as though the sufferer were seeking to keep back the outcry that was forced from him.

"There it is!" whispered Howard, pointing to a clump of bushes near the edge of the river.

"It strikes me we had better leave!" replied Elwood, looking forward to the canoe as if fearful that that would be taken from them and all escape be thus cut off.

"Do you sind the dog forward and let him smell out the difficulty," suggested Tim O'Rooney.

Terror stood there between the boys, his head raised and his whole appearance indicating that he had scented something unusual, but was awaiting orders before advancing upon it. The Newfoundland looked up as if asking for directions. Elwood simply pointed toward the brush and the dog galloped to it. Instead of entering, he stopped by it and gave a low growl of discovery.

"What is it, Terror?" asked Howard.

The brute whined and ran to his masters and then back to the bushes.

"It maybe a trap to catch us," said Elwood. "I prefer very much taking to the canoe and getting away from the island."

"But it may be some one suffering and needing help. He may perish if we leave him here."

"Yez spakes the truth," said Tim. "The blessed Father would never forgive us if we should desart one of his creatures when he needed hilp."

Tim now advanced straight to the bushes, paused, and then parted them and looked in. He was heard to mutter something to himself; then he came back.

"It's an Injin, a-layin' on the ground, a-groanin' and a-rollin' over. I guess the poor fellow has got his last sickness, and we can't help him any."

All feelings were at once merged into that of pity. The three advanced and parted the bushes. There, sure enough, lay an Indian apparently nigh unto death. He turned his black eyes up to the white people in a manner that would have melted the heart of a Nero. He lay doubled up on his blanket, with his gun a short distance from him. He belonged to the Pah Utah tribe, although their hunting-grounds are further to the southwest. This fact, as a matter of course, was unknown to our friends.

The first impression was that he had been badly wounded, but a second glance showed that he was deadly sick.

Elwood Brandon had placed his hand upon the dusky forehead, and the heat and throbbing temples told him at once that he was possessed with a burning fever.

The poor Indian muttered something unintelligible, but which bore some resemblance to the word "Shasta," and he made a motion toward his mouth and then threw his head back and imitated the act of drinking.

"He must be suffering with thirst," said Howard. "How shall we manage to give him water?"

"God save the poor fellow! I will soon fix that!" exclaimed the kind-hearted Tim, rising to his feet and hurrying to the river's edge. Here he speedily constructed quite a capacious cup of leaves, and carefully filling it with cool water he as carefully carried it back to where he lay.

"Now, me good felly, just tip up his noddle and we'll make him faal aisy."

Elwood carefully raised his head, and the trembling sufferer eagerly reached forward for the cooling fluid. It was placed to his parched lips and swallowed hastily, when he immediately motioned for more.

"Will it do to give it?" asked Howard. "Will it not injure him?"

"Niver a bit," replied Tim, hurrying away for another supply.

In a moment it was brought and swallowed with the same avidity. He then lay his head back upon the blanket of the boys, which had been folded into a pillow by Howard. His great black eyes looked the thanks which his tongue was unable to express.

"Now he will slaap," said Tim. "Lave him alone."

He was relinquished to slumber while our friends retired a short distance to consult.

"How providential that we landed here," said Howard. "He was too feeble to help himself, and might have died in great distress."

"Yes, I am glad that we found him, for if he does die we may be the means of robbing his last moments of great suffering."

"Boys," said Tim, hitching up his pantaloons and scratching his head, "me mind is made up to one thing."

The boys looked inquiringly at him.

"I stays here till that poor copper-skin gets well or dies."

This decision pleased his companions, who declared their resolve of doing all they could for the sufferer.

"How much more pleasant than shooting at him," said Elwood. "I never felt better in my life than when I found I was able to do something for this Indian."

What a happiness it is indeed to minister to the wants of the suffering and distressed! What purer joy than to wipe away the damp from the brow of the dying and to speak words of consolation in their ears? That last agony must come to us all sooner or later, and oh how deeply we shall then appreciate the kindness of the friend who stands beside us, ministering to our wants and doing all possible to cheer and soothe our suffering! True, we must go alone through the Dark Valley, but others may lead us down to the border, and their cheering words may yet linger with us as the day closes and we step into that awful gloom through which we must pass before we can enter into the eternal day beyond. Though we know that He stands waiting to take our hand in His and lead us through the solemn darkness, yet the soul, hovering in its flight, longs for the companionship of the dear ones, until the final adieu must come! Oh, loving Father, whose sympathizing arms reach out to enfold us all, grant that such may be mine and the lot of all my friends.

Upon looking at the Indian an hour later, he was seen to be sleeping as calmly as an infant, while his face was covered with a mild, healthful moisture.

"He will git well!" said Tim. "Did I not stand by the bedside of my poor mother and give her the cowld water that brought her back to life agin?"

"The crisis of the fever has passed, or is passing," said Howard. "He must have an iron constitution, like all his people, and he will rally, I have no doubt."

"Yes," added Elwood, with much feeling, "there is one thing certain; all are not our enemies; we have made one friend at least."

"True, an Indian never forgets an injury nor a kindness, and his friendship may be of benefit to us before we reach home."

"I b'laves you, boys; that Injin will remember us as long as he lives, and will sarve us a good turn if the chances for the same be iver given him."

"But see, he has awaked!"



CHAPTER XXI.

A HUNT FOR FOOD.

The Indian was awake and making signs to his friends. For some time they were at a loss to understand their meaning, but Howard noticed that he had a leaf in his hand which he offered to them. When the boy took it his face showed that he was pleased, but continued his signs as before.

Suddenly Elwood's eyes sparkled.

"He wants us to bring him some of those leaves. Let me have it; they must be on the island."

He hastened away and was not long in finding a bush that bore precisely the same species, and gathering quite a lot he returned to the Indian and offered them to him. But he did not seem satisfied. He looked at the leaves, nodded his head, and then taking them by the slight twigs to which they were fastened, he made as if to pull them up again.

"Ah! I know what he means!" said Howard. "It is not the leaf but the root that he wishes."

"I can soon get that."

Elwood verified his words, and scarce ten minutes elapsed ere he returned with several goodly-sized roots, which were washed and cleaned. The look of the Indian showed that he had now got what he wanted, and he began gnawing the bark and chewing it.

"He's a docthering himself now!" said Tim, "as the patient said when he gave the docther his own medicine and pisened him to death by raisin of the same. He will get along."

They watched the sufferer for a few moments. Gathering his mouth nearly full of the bark, he continued chewing and swallowing for some time longer, when he finally shut his eyes and again slept.

Picking up a piece of the root which he had gathered Elwood tasted of it. He found it so bitter that he instantly spat it out.

"It must have some medicinal quality," remarked Howard, "or he would not use it. I believe the Indians doctor entirely with herbs, and I have no doubt that he will soon be well."

"Do yez mind that if it isn't noon it is close to the same? And be the tame towken we are all slightly hungry."

Now arose a query. The island was so small that it contained no game of any kind, and so was unavailable to supply their wants. The river abounded in fish, but there was no means of catching them; and finally, after some discussion, it was agreed that Tim should cross over to the mainland and shoot something.

"Do yez kaap your eyes about yez till I'z back again, for some of the coppery gintlemen may take a notion to pay yez a visit."

The boys felt a little uneasiness as they saw their companion enter the canoe and paddle toward the eastern shore—the shore which as yet had been unvisited by them. They watched until he landed, pulled the boat up behind him into shelter, and then disappeared in the wood.

"We shall be in rather a bad situation if he never comes back," remarked Elwood.

"I don't know about that; in what better occupation can we be found than in ministering to the wants of a suffering Indian? Would not that itself protect us from injury?"

"Perhaps it might; but what would become of us any way? They wouldn't be kind enough to guide us up to San Francisco."

"They might take us so far that we could find our way."

"Hardly; I don't like to see Tim go to that shore; it looks too dangerous. I wonder why he did it?"

"He must have believed there is more game there."

"But there is enough on the other side, and he would avoid this greater danger by going there."

"I imagine that a river running through a hostile country is as dangerous upon one side as upon the other, and there is little choice, Howard, in the matter."

"But I know you feel unpleasant in being thus left alone."

"I know I shall be glad to see Tim come back again, for there is always great danger in such a small party separating."

"Halloo! there goes his gun or somebody else's."

The sharp crack of the rifle came from the shore, and Elwood was sure he saw the faint smoke of the discharge ascend from some thick bushes near the edge of the wood. But he was no doubt mistaken, for as they scrutinized the spot they detected nothing of him who had fired the gun.

"I suppose it was Tim firing at some game. You know he is not a very good shot, and so he has badly wounded without killing it."

"Then we ought to hear his gun again."

"We shall no doubt——"

"Hark!"

Crack went a gun, almost instantly followed by three similar reports. The boys turned pale and looked at each other.

"What does that mean?" whispered Elwood.

"That is bad; Tim is in trouble."

"He ought to have had better sense than to paddle out there in open day, plunge right into the woods and go to shooting without stopping to see what the danger is. But what will become of him?"

"And of us?"

"This Indian here must have had some way of getting upon the island. I believe he has a canoe hid somewhere."

"But what of it? We cannot think of leaving until we know something definite about Tim."

"Unless some of the Indians start to come over to the island, and then we'll leave."

"Do you think that would be the wisest plan, Elwood? They can handle the paddle so much better than we that it would take but little time for them to overhaul us. Then, too, if they should find us by this suffering brother of theirs would it not make friends of them?"

"Suppose this Indian here is one of their enemies?"

This was a supposition that had never occurred to Howard before, but which he saw was very reasonable. All Indians not belonging to the same tribe might be supposed to be enemies of each other, and thus the mercy and kindness of our young heroes might be made the means of their destruction.

"I didn't think of that," said Howard, "it may be so. But let us hope for the best. Tim may soon return to us again."

"Not if he has a grain of sense left."

"And why not?"

"He has been seen by Indians, and if they haven't got him now they will soon have him if he undertakes to paddle his canoe over to the island."

"You are right, Elwood; he will no doubt wait until it is dark, and then come out to us as stealthily as he can."

"That is if he gets the chance. I tell you, Howard," said his cousin, starting up, "this begins to look bad."

"I know it does."

"We know how those red men handle their guns, and it don't look likely to me that all those shots have missed Tim."

"They may be quite a distance apart—far enough to make their aim uncertain."

"But then they could cut off his return to the shore."

Howard suddenly laid his hand upon the arm of his cousin and pointed to the other shore.



CHAPTER XXII.

DANGER.

Three Indians walked leisurely down to the shore of the river, as though in quest of nothing particular, and stood gesticulating as they generally do with their whole arms. They were about two hundred yards above the point where Tim O'Rooney landed, but their position was such that the canoe might have rested on the surface of the water without being seen. Sensible of their danger, the boys at first sight of them withdrew into cover, from which they cautiously peered out and watched their movements.

"Those must be the three who fired the guns," whispered Elwood.

"Very probably they are; that looks more encouraging, for I do not see Tim among them."

"Maybe they have slain him and are talking as to where he came from."

"Heaven! I hope not."

"So do I; but it looks reasonable that they have made away with him and are now looking for us."

"How did they know he had any friends with him? Then, too, if they had slain him, would they not have followed his trail straight down to the water?"

"I didn't think of that. That question makes me more hopeful than anything else. It does now look somewhat cheering. But what are they after?"

The Indians were still talking in an excited manner, and more than once pointed across the river to the island as if there were something there which claimed their attention. It might be the boys themselves, or they may have known that one of their race lay there in dire extremity; but whatever the cause was it boded no good to the two boys, who were crouching in the bushes and grass and furtively watching their motions.

The latter were still gazing at them when their hearts were thrilled by the sight of Tim O'Rooney. The eyes of Elwood chanced to be fixed upon a small open space, a rod or two from where the canoe lay, when he saw the Irishman come cautiously into view, and then pause and look around him. He had an animal slung over his shoulders, whose weight was sufficient to make him stop and travel with some difficulty. They saw him turn his head and carefully scrutinize every suspicious point that was visible, and then he walked slowly toward the spot where the canoe was concealed. Whether his low stoop was caused by the weight of his game, or whether it was a precautionary measure on his part, was difficult to decide. The boys at once became painfully excited and alarmed.

"They will see him! they will see him!" said Elwood, "and it will be all over with us. What a pity! when he has got along so well!"

"Can we not warn him in some manner? The Indians do not know how near he is, nor does he know how close they are."

"How can we do it?" asked Elwood, who was anxious to give Tim some warning of his danger. "If we make any sign the Indians will see us."

"Perhaps not; for they are not looking in this direction all the time, while Tim knows that we are watching him."

"Yes; but he has his hands full to see that the savages do not find him."

The case looked critical indeed. Tim was nearing the point where it seemed inevitable that a discovery should take place. He paused at nearly every step or two, looked behind him and up and down the river in a manner that showed plainly enough his fear of his enemies. Elwood Brandon in his eagerness had risen to his feet, and was looking intently at him, waiting until he should cast his eye toward the island that he might give him warning. But the Irishman was so occupied with his enemies that he appeared to forget the existence of his friends.

Elwood did not remove his gaze, and all at once he saw him raise his head. Quick as a flash the boy sprung up a foot or two from the ground and waved his hat toward him.

"Did he see me?" he asked, as he sunk down to the earth again.

"He has paused and is looking toward us."

Tim had caught sight of the signal of the boy, but was uncertain as to its meaning. The waving of the hat might be supposed as an act of encouragement than otherwise; but there was something in the silent, hurried manner of his young friend, united with the fact that he had been, and was still, in great personal peril, that arrested his attention and set him to thinking.

"Did the Indians see me?" asked Elwood.

"I can't say positively, as I was looking at Tim at the moment you made your signal, but they do not seem to act as if they had discovered us."

"Tim saw me, didn't he? He doesn't know what to make of it."

The Irishman had laid the animal he was carrying upon the ground, and stood looking toward the inland as if waiting for some further manifestation before advancing or retreating. Believing the safety of the entire party demanded it, Elwood begun cautiously rising to his feet to repeat his warning, when he was quickly caught by his cousin.

"Down! those Indians are suspicious; they are looking right at us—don't stir."

The admonition was not a moment too soon; but while it prevented discovery on the part of the boys, it rendered the signal already given the Irishman void and of no effect. Tim, seeing nothing more of his young friend, concluded that all was right, and lifting his game to his shoulder continued his descent until he reached his canoe. This was drawn from its hiding place and launched in the water, and the animal placed in the rear. Seating himself carefully in the front, Tim lifted his paddle and began making his way toward the inland.

"Too bad! too bad!" muttered Elwood, unable to repress his feelings. "He is coming right out where they will have a fair chance with their rifles."

"If he would only turn up stream, they would see nothing of him."

"Can't I warn him?"

"No, Elwood, it will make matters worse. Their eyes are fixed upon us."

Grasping the long oar Tim headed his boat somewhat up stream, so as not to let it drift by the island, and commenced paddling across. He had gone twenty rods or thereabouts when he was discovered by the Indians, and one of them raised his rifle and took aim at him.

"Quick, Tim, drop down, or you'll be shot!" called out Howard, forgetful of his own danger in the single hope of saving his friend from a violent death.

At the same instant that this cry was uttered the terrified boy saw a puff of smoke issue from the Indian rifle, and simultaneous with the sharp crack Tim O'Rooney was seen to fall flat in the canoe.

"He is shot!" called out Elwood.

"It is time then for us to do some of the same kind of business," replied Howard, sighting his own gun at the savage upon the shore. The distance was too great and his skill too slight to guide the ball with anything like certainty, but it skipped over the water at their very feet, and so alarmed them that they immediately dodged back under the shelter of the rocks and trees.

"What is the use?" asked Elwood gloomily. "Poor Tim is killed and there is no chance for us."

"Look! he is not dead!" whispered Howard.

The head of the Irishman was seen to rise stealthily from the bottom of the canoe, and to peer around, and then to dash down again as though fearful of another shot.

"I don't believe he has been struck!" added Howard. "He dropped down so as to save himself."

"Oh! I hope so, for we need him bad enough. See! he is fixing the body of the animal so that it shall be between him and the Indians' guns."

Such was the case. Tim was arranging and placing the carcass so that it might shield his own body while he managed the paddle. This completed he turned his face toward his young friends and called across the water:

"Be aisy, me darlings! The owld bullet come close, but not a hair of Tim O'Rooney's head was touched, and thanks be to heaven for it!"



CHAPTER XXIII.

DRIFTING AWAY.

The bullet of the treacherous Indian had indeed whizzed harmlessly by the head of Tim O'Rooney and when he fell to the bottom of the canoe it was for the purpose of preventing any more of their missiles passing too near him.

The savages, hastily driven to shelter by the unexpected shot from the island, did not by any means relinquish their designs upon the unfortunate white man in the canoe. He who had taken the quick aim and fired saw that his bullet missed, but he understood the disadvantage of his enemy, and was confident that he would still fall into their hands.

As we have shown, when the Irishman was thus suddenly interrupted, he was but a short distance from the shore. So abruptly compelled to relinquish his paddle and simply shelter his person, the current carried him quite rapidly down the stream.

Tim did not become sensible of his disadvantage until he had drifted below the island, and then upon partly rising to use his paddle the crack of a gun from the shore told him that he was watched by vigilant eyes, and that that occupation was vetoed most unmistakably.

Forced thus to act entirely on the defensive, he carefully drew out his rifle and resting it on the body of his game waited his chance to avenge himself upon the unrelenting savages. He could tell from the faint blue smoke that curled upward where they were concealed, but could not catch sight of them.

Had they shown themselves, the Irishman knew it was about impossible for him to harm them at such a distance, while their dexterity in the use of the gun made it too dangerous for him to expose himself to their fire. He watched them until he had floated quite a way below, when he began to hope that they had given up their designs upon him, and he might make his way back to his friends upon the island in safety.

But when on the point of rising to a sitting position he saw them whisk through the bushes he knew they were following him along the shore—following him, too, with that skill and stealth which prevented his getting a shot at them, and placing it totally out of his power to prevent himself from being "commanded by their fire."

As may well be imagined, Howard and Elwood were deeply interested spectators of these events. Now that they had revealed their presence upon the island, and there was no further use in attempting to conceal the fact, they were eager to render their companion all the assistance possible.

But the nature of the occurrences made them helpless. Tim had drifted such a distance down stream, and had consequently drawn his enemies so far after him, that they had not the slightest chance of reaching them with their rifles, if they chose to expose themselves. They could only watch, therefore, and pray for their safety.

Floating slowly onward, onward, they observed that Tim's canoe gradually swerved to the left until it disappeared around a curve in the river. It crossed the center and was nearer the western than the eastern shore. This seemed to show that, despite his unfavorable situation, he was able to impart a motion to the boat, which, slight as it was, would eventually bring him to the opposite side of the stream.

Nothing more was seen of the Indians, although the report of several guns, heard within a half-hour of the disappearance of the canoe, prevented their feeling too sanguine over the position of Tim O'Rooney.

"We can now see the blunder he committed," said Howard. "He did wrong in going to the eastern bank when he could have secured his game as well upon the other side."

"I think he will be able to get away, unless they have a canoe with which to follow him."

"Even then he can take to the woods and hide himself until dark, and then make his way back to us."

"I hope so, but fear he will be prevented or overtaken before he can reach shelter."

"But think, Howard, he has a gun and plenty of ammunition, and there are but three of them. I should say they would hesitate some time before advancing upon him."

"But he is a poor shot, like ourselves."

"He could not miss them if they came very close to him."

"Yes; there seems to be a good chance, if they don't find more Indians to unite with them in the hunt."

This was a contingency that had not occurred to Elwood, and he was almost overwhelmed at its import until he came to reason upon it, when the likelihood of such being the case dwindled away until it almost vanished.

"We have seen no large bodies of savages, and I don't believe they care enough about catching or slaying a single man to go to all that trouble."

"Not so much trouble, perhaps, as you are apt to think. War is the business of the American Indians, you know, as it is of all barbarous people."

"But look at Ned Trimble and his friends. There are but three of them, and I have no doubt that their security is in their strength—otherwise they would not be so indifferent as to what is going on around them. You remember they did not see us until we first spoke to them."

"So it appeared; but I have an idea that they knew of our presence before Tim discovered them."

"They did not show it, at any rate."

"They looked surprised when we came up, but if we had been enemies instead of friends I believe we would have been the surprised parties. They have lived too long in the wilds of California to permit a party of strangers to steal upon them unaware."

"But what is to become of us if Tim doesn't come back?"

"We shall have to put ourselves under the care of Shasta—that is, if he gets well."

"Why do you call him Shasta? Where did you hear that name?"

"The only word I have heard him speak sounded like that, and I do not know of any better name. Can you think of one?"

"No; that is good enough; let him be called Shasta, then. There may be a greater Providence in our coming upon this island than we imagine."

"There is a Providence in everything that occurs, though it may be that we are not always able to see it. Do you remember the copy we had so often at school, 'Misfortunes are often blessings in disguise?'"

"Yes; but like the truths that were driven into our heads so often at school, we fail to appreciate them until some occasion like this impresses them upon our minds. But I declare, Howard, we are turning philosophers."

"What better can we do, when there is nothing else to employ ourselves about? We need all our philosophy at such a time."

"But we must not forget our patient, Shasta."

"True. He had gone almost out of my mind until you referred to him a moment ago. Let us look at him."

The two had been stationed near the lower end of the island, and they now walked back to where they had left the suffering stranger. What was their surprise to see him standing on his feet, his blanket wrapped around him, and his attitude and position such as to raise a strong suspicion that he understood all that had taken place within the last hour or two.



CHAPTER XXIV.

A HUNT.

When Tim O'Rooney left the island and crossed to the eastern shore of the Salinas he had almost forgotten the existence of any such thing as hostile Indians. He was after something to eat, and some how or other it seemed to him that the climate of California had given him a most ravenous appetite, which demanded satisfaction regardless of consequences.

Touching land, he pulled his canoe up the bank to prevent its being carried away by the current, and then plunged boldly into the forest. The land from the river rose quite rapidly until it reached an elevation of several hundred feet, when it was broken by gorges, ravines and chasms, which made it rattier difficult to travel, and gave it an extremely wild and picturesque appearance.

Fairly among these broken hills, Tim began to look for his game, but for a time saw nothing to draw his fire. Finally he reached a wild-looking gorge which descended over a hundred feet below him, while upon the opposite side it rose to a greater height than the place upon which he stood.

The Irishman was so struck with the wild scenery that he stood a few moments contemplating it in silent admiration, when all at once he became conscious that something else beside himself was engaged in looking. Directly across the gorge, so as to be almost opposite to him, he saw the head of an animal which he recognized at once as belonging to a black-tailed deer.

"Be the powers! but you're jist the gintleman that I'd like to make an acquaintance with, as me mither said when me father axed her hand in marriage."

Tim drew his rifle carefully and rested it upon a rock beside him. The deer gazed at him with that expression of stupid wonder which wild animals assume when confronted with something, and they seem to be debating with themselves whether to leap away at high speed or to stare a moment longer.

The distance was so slight that Tim was sure of his aim. Nevertheless, he took great care in sighting his piece, and as his finger gently pressed the trigger, he held his breath. The bullet sped true, entering just below and between the eyes, and with such deadly effect that the mortally wounded deer sprung several feet in the air and fell dead within a rod of the spot where it had stood when struck.

"That is plaisant," muttered the Irishman, as he saw the animal fall, "and yez hav the distinguished honor of baing the first deer that Tim O'Rooney brought down; but yez ain't the first he fired at—but whist, Tim, don't be telling your secrets, for somebody else might larn them."

He now began making his way carefully down the gorge in order to ascend upon the opposite side and secure his prize. He had no thought that the report of his gun could reach the ears of hostile persons, and he did not heed anything except the place and manner in which he put his feet in going down and up the ravine.

After no little toiling he reached the dead body, and found that he had shot a rather small black-tailed deer. It was in middling condition, and was the very prize he was anxious to secure for his hungry self and equally hungry friends.

As he stood admiring it, for the first time the thought of personal danger crossed his mind, and he glanced hurriedly around him, but saw nothing to occasion alarm. Then he leaned forward and gazed down the gorge, and as he did so he descried three Indians looking up the side of the chasm. Slight as was the distance his head projected, it was seen by them, and he only drew it back to escape the effect of three discharges of their guns.

"And that is your shtyle of saluting a gintleman is it?" said Tim in some trepidation. "But yez has a forcible way of saying 'how do yez do,' in this counthry, that a stranger would do well to imitate."

The Irishman hastily debated with himself upon the best plan to pursue to escape the serious peril that threatened him, for he was sure the savages would follow up their shot.

"The best thing I can do is to lave," he concluded. "There is strong raison for belaving that I've given some one slight offinse by walking into their house without ringing the bell."

He stooped over and lifted his game. He found its weight somewhat less than he had suspected.

"I have no objiction to your going wid me. If I has to have the same dispute about ivery deer I tips over, I may as well hang on to the fust one."

Slinging it over his shoulder, he began his return with the carcass. It proved beneficial to him in a way that he had little suspected. Not wishing to go any further down the gorge, where there was reason to fear a collision with the savages, he clambered still higher, taking great care to shield himself from observation from below.

This made his labor excessive, and he was often obliged to pause and rest himself. But at length he reached what might be termed the brow of the hill, and began making his way along the edge of a smaller ravine, that led toward the river. While thus engaged, the body of the deer struck a projecting rock, and before Tim could save himself he rolled over and over for a distance of twenty odd feet, coming down plump upon the deer without injuring himself in the least.

"I'm obliged to yez," he said, as he rose and stared around with a bewildered air. "That was kind in yez, and I'll not forget the favor."

Again raising his carcass to his shoulder, he resumed his journey toward the river. But as he progressed the weight upon his shoulder seemed to grow heavier, and he was obliged to pause and rest himself quite often. On these occasions he looked around him half-expecting to see the three savages spring out of the bushes.

If such a thing should occur, Tim had already decided upon his mode of procedure. He intended to sink to the ground at once, with the body of the deer as a sheltering breastwork, and make as gallant fight as possible. His success in bringing down his game, when it was fully fifty yards distant, gave him quite a flattering estimate of his prowess.

The Indians, as the Irishman had anticipated, hastened up the gorge to secure the daring hunter, who had so audaciously exposed himself to their anger. It required some time for them to find the exact spot where the deer had fallen, and when they did so, they followed him readily by the blood which had trickled from its drooping head, which as Tim bore his prize away he little dreamed would betray the course he took.

When the point of Tim's fall was reached, all signs of his trail ceased, and they supposed he had checked the flow of blood, and thus concealed his tracks. The surface over which he traversed being rock and flinty ground, left no evidence of his passage; and resigning, therefore, the pursuit in this manner, they made their way leisurely down to the river and waited until the hunter appeared.

Tim's heart beat high with hope when he found himself close by the stream and saw nothing of his pursuers. The hasty signal given by Elwood Brandon, as we have shown, caused him some uneasiness, but not being repeated, and being very anxious to get back to the island, he placed the deer in the canoe and paddled away.



CHAPTER XXV.

A SINGULAR ESCAPE.

The shot from the treacherous Indian upon the shore was the first intelligent warning Tim had that he was discovered by them. The kind Providence who had so often turned aside the dangerous missile still protected him, and when he so suddenly dropped to the bottom of his canoe, it was with a bullet-hole through his coat but not through his body.

"Another illigant compliment to mesilf that it would afford me great pleasure to return, and if you'll only be kind enough to wait a few moments, I'll do the same."

But ere he could bring his gun to bear, the wild shot from the island drove the savages to cover, and raised the Irishman's finger that was pressing the trigger.

We have already told how, when he undertook to use the paddle, he found it too dangerous, and coming again behind the deer, he floated down the current. This, after the severe labor he had undergone, was an agreeable change, but he was not long in discovering it was dangerous. He was drifting away from his friends, and the further he went the greater did the danger become to both parties. He speedily discovered that the Indians were following him, and the interposing body of the black-tailed deer was a most effectual protection. More than his own bullets were buried in it ere he had gone a half-mile down stream.

"If I entertained a small doubt that yez was killed, I couldn't howld it with them bullets rattlin' in your hide, me owld friend."

The efforts of a child, if steadily persevered in, would move the Great Eastern in calm water, and Tim was not long in making the discovery that, if he could not use the paddle, he still was able to exert a motive power upon the canoe by a very slight means.

Reaching his hand over the side, he began paddling the water, and soon had the gratifying consciousness that he was moving across the river. True, it was slow, but it was nevertheless certain and positive, and was carrying him further away from his troublesome pursuers, and must eventually bring him against the western shore.

But when the island disappeared from view, and he had barely crossed the center of the stream, he begun to think that this species of locomotion was rather tardy, and he partially came to the sitting position and ventured to take his paddle in hand. A discharge from the shore warned him of the danger he ran, and he was reluctantly forced to drop his head again and resort to his tedious method of moving.

By this time the afternoon was well advanced, and it looked as though it would be fully dark before Tim could regain the ground he had lost. Now and then he peered over the top of the deer to see whether he could possibly catch sight of his acquaintances, but they whisked from cover to cover so dexterously that he had not the encouragement even to hope for success, and so he did not fire.

But a new fear took possession of the fugitive. If they were Indians, it was to be expected that they had canoes somewhere, and if they were speedily found, he would as speedily be overhauled.

"In which case Tim O'Rooney will lose his daar, and be the same towken lose himself, and the boys won't get their dinner."

He squinted at the sun, now low in the sky, and quickly asked himself:

"If a man doesn't git his dinner, and ates half-way atween noon and midnight, is it his dinner or supper? But that is a mighty question, is the same."

He evidently concluded it was too vast for him to decide, for he speedily dismissed it and turned his attention to that which more nearly concerned him. Still toiling with his hand, much in the same manner that a child would dabble in the water, he kept up the tardy movement of the canoe until he began to grow fearless again, and he took his paddle once more.

Now, when it was almost too late, he found that he could use it without danger to himself. By bending his body forward, the deer protected him and he could labor with impunity.

"Tim O'Rooney, I fears yez are lacking in the iliments which go to make up a mon of sense. Why didn't yez think of this when it would have done yez more good?"

When he was yet within a few yards of shore, he looked back and was not a little frightened to see that the savages had launched a canoe and were coming across the river with the speed of the swallow.

"Whisht now! but that is onexpected," said he, as he redoubled his own exertions. Observing that his pursuers were rapidly gaining, he suddenly recalled an artifice that he had seen practiced during his experience in the mines years before. Catching up his rifle, he aimed it at the advancing Indians.

Quick as a flash they ducked their heads and held up the two paddles they were using as a protection against the expected bullet. But it was not Tim's purpose to fire. He knew better than to do that, for ere he could have reloaded they would have been upon him.

The minute they stooped he lowered his gun and caught up his paddle and used it furiously. In this he was imitated by the Indians, whose superior skill sent their frail vessel forward with such velocity that it looked as if they would reach the shore but a short distance behind him.

Again he raised his gun, and as before they attempted to screen themselves from danger, while the next impulse of his paddle sent his canoe high up the bank, and he sprung out and plunged into the woods.

Tim O'Rooney had no thought of the particular manner in which he was to effect his escape. His one desire was to get away from them. The probabilities are that, beyond all doubt, he would have been speedily overtaken and slain but for one of those singular occurrences which do not happen to a man more than once in a life-time, and which seem to show unmistakably that Providence often interferes directly in favor of the innocent and distressed.

He had run perhaps a couple of hundred yards, or thereabouts, when a peculiar whoop from his pursuers announced that they had landed and were now coming speedily behind him. He knew that he had no chance in running, and was looking about him for some place in which to take shelter, when a furious growl startled him and he found himself within a dozen feet from enormous grizzly bear. This quadruped seemed anxious for a fight, for he came straight at the fugitive, who might certainly be excused for being dazed at the combination of dangers by which he was surrounded.

That of the grizzly bear was the greatest; for with mouth open and his red tongue lolling out he came fiercely at him. His gait was awkward and shambling, but he managed to get over the ground very rapidly. Indeed, the danger was so imminent that Tim, seeing there was no choice, raised his gun and fired at the monster.

The bullet struck him near the head, but it did not kill him, nor did it cause him to fall, but it bewildered him, and he rose on his hind feet and clawed the air as if the bullet was a splinter and he was seeking to pluck it from his flesh.

This bewilderment was the means of Tim being saved. Before the animal had entirely recovered, he had darted out of sight, and when the Indians came up the bear was just in "fighting trim," and immediately made at them. Consequently they were compelled to give over all thoughts of the flying hunter and attend to their own personal safety. What the final result was Tim never learned, and we cannot speak with certainty.



CHAPTER XXVI.

SHASTA'S HUNT.

If the Pah Utah in the extremity of his suffering had been betrayed into the extraordinary weakness of manifesting it, he now seemed anxious to make amends for the humiliating fact. It may have been that among his own people he would have restrained those utterances which declared his agony, and borne the utmost with the stoicism of his race; but knowing that civilization does not teach such outward indifference to pain, he had adopted the surest means to reach the sympathy of the white strangers; or, if we may conjecture still further, the consciousness of the instinctive feud between the American and Caucasian race told him that the plan he took was the only one that offered safety to himself. What reason had he to believe that the hunters were kind of heart? If he hid his distress, would he not be treated as a well Indian? And was there any but the one common ground upon which the two races met?

But the fever had passed and he was himself again. True, he was still feeble, and his limbs trembled at times like those of an old man; but the disease had gone, and the stern, unbending will had resumed its sway. He was not a child, but he was Shasta, the Pah Utah Indian.

The inexperience of Elwood Brandon and Howard Lawrence with these strange people made this savage an enigma to them. As he stood with his arms folded, his blanket wrapped around him, his long black hair streaming over his shoulders, and the mingling of the paint on his crown and over his face, and his midnight eyes fixed upon them, it was hard indeed to conjecture the thoughts filtrating through his brain.

But there is a language in which the human heart can speak—that of emotion. The boys felt no fear—ingratitude is not an element of the savage character, though sad to say it is sometimes manifested among us of greater moral pretensions.

He looked at them as they came up and paused a few feet from him.

"You seem to be better?" asked Elwood, feeling it incumbent that he should make some remark, even though it was incomprehensible to their dusky friend. He muttered something and then stretched out his arms as if to show that he had recovered from his illness.

At this point Terror went up to the savage and snuffed around him, as if to satisfy himself of his identity. The latter laid his hand upon his knife and watched the dog narrowly, but he appeared to judge the animal by the company, and quietly removed his hand and folded his arms again.