"No use doing that. He rooted the whole outfit over. The knife is gone, and that's sure! I've been thinking some about it."

"And had a bright idea, I warrant. What's your solution of the mystery?"

"Why, you see, Jerry, I can clearly recollect Nellie's startled look when Bluff showed her that terribly large knife. She's afraid of such things. I'm sure she must have worried some about it, and I was thinking—"

"What?"

"That perhaps she may have considered it prudent to hide it away so that he couldn't find it again. I believe she would in my case, anyhow. It would be just like Nellie."

"Oh, well, it doesn't matter much, only Bluff is such a fellow to hang on a thing he'll never give us any peace about it. Have you asked Will?" said Jerry.

"No. I will, though; but I don't think he would bother his head about a dozen knives. If it were a camera, now, or a rapid-action rectilinear lens, you could depend on him to take notice."

Frank was as good as his word. Will denied having touched the article in question, and said he was sorry to hear Bluff would be deprived of a pleasure.

And so for the time being the mystery remained such, with Bluff occasionally digging into that trunk in a vain search, and always sighing mournfully because he failed to bring the lost treasure to light.

The boys bunked in one big room. It was very much like a picnic for them, and would often bring back pleasant memories whenever they looked at the rather clever view Will managed to get of the interior, with his chums and himself lolling there.

In the morning there was pretty much of a bustle around the ranch house.

"Ready, boys?" called Mr. Mabie, as he appeared with his gun strapped across his back, as the easiest way of carrying it.

A chorus of affirmatives greeted his question.

"Then mount, and we'll be off. They've gone on ahead last night with the tents and foodstuff, so that we'll find things in pretty much shipshape when we get on the ground."

"Say, they do things right out in this big country, eh?" said Bluff to Frank as the two of them galloped off in company.

The morning was fair and the air sharp enough to be bracing.

"Never saw anything to equal the atmosphere here," remarked Frank as their host came alongside. "There seems to be a tonic in it that even we do not have up in Maine or the Adirondacks. It makes you feel like shouting all the time."

"Everybody says the same when they first come. Presently you will grow accustomed to its invigorating tone, and quiet down. It is caused by the dry air. We are a long way from the Atlantic, and these mighty mountains to the west act as a buffer to the moisture-laden air from the Pacific."

Crossing the valley, they were soon penetrating among the foothills at the base of the great uplifts, the tops of which bore eternal snow.

Wilder grew the scenery as they penetrated deeper into the wilderness. Frank and his chums were almost awed by the grandeur of their surroundings. At the same time, Jerry kept an eager eye on the watch for signs of game. The sportsman spirit was strong in his nature, and generally forged to the front.

It was Frank, however, who first chanced to spy something that excited his attention.

"What is that moving up yonder, Mr. Mabie? There! Look! I declare if it didn't jump straight across from that high rock to the other! Is that a Rocky Mountain sheep, sir?" he asked.

"Just what it is, my lad; and if you feel inclined, there is a chance for you to get a shot at it," came the quick reply.

"I would like it, first rate," declared Frank, immediately changing his rifle from his back to his hands.

"All right, then. Listen, and I'll tell you how it may be done. We'll rest our horses right here, for the last climb over this rough ridge to the bank of the swift river lying between. You drop down here and make your way along until you can get a chance to shoot. It will be a long shot, remember, so make allowances; and the wind is with you, not against you."

"I'll try my best, sir," said Frank, slipping off his horse.

"Be very careful as you crawl along, for a slip might cost you your life," were the last words he heard the stockman say as he began to descend the little declivity in order to make his way along its base, so as to remain concealed from the quarry.

Frank was careful as well as quick in his movements. Again and again he peeped out to see what the mountain sheep was doing. So far as he could learn, the animal seemed to be centering its attention on the caravan that had halted. Three times it moved its position, and once he was just in time to see it make a most dazzling leap, which he hoped Will might have caught with his quick-action lens.

Finally, having gained a place where he had a fine view of the animal standing there across the gorge, Frank sank down so as to get a good aim. Not quite satisfied, he crawled forward a little further, and then proceeded to put his fortune to the test.

Never had he calculated more exactly just how he should aim in order to bring the success he craved. When he pressed the trigger he was thrilled to see the mountain sheep give a wild spring into the air and then fall over the edge of the platform. This time its spring lacked the buoyancy of life, and Frank knew that his bullet had reached its billet.

But he had no time to exult, for as he moved he felt the ground slipping from under him, and realized that nothing could interpose to prevent his falling into the deep gorge!



CHAPTER X

THE YOUNG HUNTER AND THE ELK

There are times when one acts from instinct alone. Frank had no time to think, when he felt himself going down with some loose earth and stones into the wide canyon. He simply threw his rifle back of him, so that he might save it from falling, and at the same time have the free use of both hands.

He fell a dozen feet or so, along with the loose soil and rocks he had caused to give way under his weight. Then, by some happy accident, his outstretched hands closed upon a bush that was growing from the rough face of the wall, and to this he clung with desperation.

It threatened to come loose with each movement he made, and yet he was bound to find some niche for his dangling feet, so as to relieve the bush from a part of his weight.

He had heard the loud outcries of his friends, and knew they must be hastening to his relief.

If he could only hold on for five minutes all might be well.

Below lay quite an abyss, and a fall was apt to bruise him very much, even if he were fortunate enough not to have any bones broken. It was, therefore, with considerable gratitude that he discovered he could dig his toes into crevices in the rock, and thus hang on.

Jerry afterward declared that Frank presented all the appearance of a fly plastered against a wall; but it might have been noticed that he was the first one to reach the edge of the platform and breathe encouraging words to his endangered chum.

Mr. Mabie knew what would be needed before he made the first movement.

"Bring your rope, Reddy!" he shouted, and the agile cowboy had obeyed.

This was quickly lowered until the noose dangled below Frank.

"Use one foot to draw it in, my boy. We want you to get both legs inside the loop, and then gradually let us draw it up under your arms. It's all right. We're going to have you out of that, so don't worry!" called the ranchman.

"You can depend on it, Frank isn't frightened. If that bush threatens to go, get a quick grip of the rope! Do you understand, Frank?" called Jerry.

A quick nod of the head told that the one below realized he was as good as drawn up already. One foot was cautiously withdrawn from its support and the loop caught; then the second also passed inside the circle; after which a tightening of the lariat brought it up to where Mr. Mabie wanted to have it.

"Now here you come, my boy!" he called cheerily.

Frank let go his frenzied clutch, and swung into space; but willing hands quickly drew him up until he stood with his chums.

"Did I get him?" was the first question he asked, at which the stockman laughed heartily and patted him on the back.

"Spoken like a true sportsman, I declare! How about it, Reddy?" he said.

"There's his game, sir, lying just at the foot of that old slide. It was as neat a shot as I ever saw," declared the young cowboy, pointing.

"Which is the truth, old fellow!" exclaimed Jerry, seizing Frank's hand and wringing it warmly, without a touch of jealousy, even though his own laurels as the admitted best shot of the club seemed in jeopardy.

"But what a pity we can't get it! I hate to think of killing game and leaving it for the wolves," said Frank.

"Oh, that's soon remedied. Reddy will promise to land that sheep here for you in double-quick order, eh?"

Reddy was already fastening one end of his lariat to a projecting stone that resembled a saddle-horn. This done, he tried it, to make sure that it would hold. Then he tossed the balance of the rope, loop and all, over the edge.

"Does it reach down?" asked Mr. Mabie.

"Just gets there, and no more," replied Will, craning his neck to see.

Reddy flung himself over in what struck Will as a most reckless fashion; but he discovered in time that these free riders of the ranches do everything in that nervous manner. It is a country where men quickly learn that often their lives depend on their ability to act promptly and like a flash.

"He's down already," announced Will, half a minute later.

And it was not ten minutes before they saw the cowboy coming back again. He had Frank's first mountain sheep upon his back, and though the way was rough he jumped from stone to stone with surprising agility for one who spent so much time in the saddle.

In due time the journey was resumed.

"How much further do we go?" asked Will, as he followed behind the guide, Reddy.

"Here's the top of the ridge. Now you can see the other valley, and the noise you hear is made by a cataract in the river. We camp just below that. Fishing is good there, and I guess you'll like it," was the reply.

They soon headed down, and the end of their day's work seemed close at hand. It can be easily assumed that none of the boys were sorry. Quite unused to riding, they began to feel the effects already.

"I'm glad it's a camp after this. I've sure got a cramp in my legs that it'll take a long time to get out," grunted Bluff.

"Rome wasn't built in a day, son. Each time you ride you'll notice that cramp less and less, until after a month you will be entirely free from it. But here we are at our journey's end, and I, for one, don't feel sorry, because for ten minutes I've been scenting that coffee. The boys have seen us coming, and started to have dinner cooked."

It proved to be just as Mr. Mabie said. A most appetizing camp dinner was ready for them when they arrived. Perhaps Jerry and Frank may have thought it did not fully come up to some similar feasts they had helped prepare in the woods, but of course they never hinted at such a thing; for those cowboys, while the most accommodating of fellows, were also thin-skinned in some respects.

Will was fairly delighted at the romantic looks of the camp, back of which the waterfall came tumbling down. He could hardly wait to eat his dinner before he set to work to secure a fac-simile of the picture, with the party gathered around the fire, and the three tents making a pleasing contrast to the dark green of the pinon trees.

Most of the party were contented to remain quiet during the balance of the day, but Bluff developed an unusually ambitious spirit for action. Truth to tell, he secretly considered that his chums were having more than their share of good luck in making a record at bagging game, and thought it time he started in.

Mr. Mabie had made him accept the use of a spare hunting-knife. It was a short, though serviceable weapon, and had doubtless done splendid execution in days gone by. Bluff used to take it out when he thought no one was looking, run his finger over the keen edge, gaze sadly at the dim blade, and shake his head. He could not get the memory of that other grand specimen of the cutler's skill out of his mind, and his soul was filled with bitterness because of its strange absence.

"Look out for wolves!" called Reddy, but Bluff only waved his hand in derision as he walked away down the valley.

Of course, he knew that the stockmen were more or less troubled with these hungry marauders in the winter time, and often had to organize grand hunts in order to keep their number down; but it hardly seemed reasonable to expect trouble from such a source in the summer season.

Elk and moose had not as yet come under the protection of the game laws, so that they were at liberty to shoot what they pleased. As a rule, however, Mr. Mabie did not believe in hunting such animals save in the fall of the year.

Bluff had asked numerous questions before leaving camp, so that he knew something about the lay of the land in the vicinity. He had started out with all due regard to the way the wind was blowing, so as not to alarm any quarry that might be sniffing up the breeze.

Climbing among the rocks, and passing through dense patches of timber, he kept on the alert for signs of game. Now, Bluff did not make any pretence at being a skilful sportsman. In fact, until a year or so back he had been the bungler of the party when it came to a knowledge of woodcraft; but since then he had studied up on various subjects, and was now anxious to air his knowledge.

When he caught sight of a large animal with towering antlers, feeding in a little glade, he knew it must, of necessity, be an elk, for a moose was built along different lines entirely.

It might have amused Jerry to see the way in which Bluff crawled closer and closer to the expected quarry. No doubt he did make some ridiculous efforts, which were not at all according to the usual rules of the game. However, as Bluff would say, the proof of the pudding lies in the eating of it, and he certainly did manage to creep up quite close to the feeding elk.

Thinking he was now near enough, and that the animal was beginning to act uneasily, Bluff stretched himself out, balanced his gun on a stone, took a long aim, and then pulled the trigger.

The elk certainly dropped, at which the young hunter gave a bellow of delight. That was where he made a foolish blunder, for believing that his bullet had done for the game, Bluff started recklessly forward, bent on bleeding the same, and only regretting the fact that he could not initiate his precious new blade.

To his astonishment, the wounded elk scrambled to its feet, and instead of bounding away it shook its antlers in an angry fashion and started straight toward the young hunter!



CHAPTER XI

THE ELK AND THE YOUNG HUNTER

"Hey! Hold on, there! That isn't in the game!"

The elk did not seem to care whether it were so or not, but came rushing straight on. Like many another, more experienced in the ways of the woods than himself, Bluff almost forgot that he had other charges in his gun. He was so amazed to see the animal he had fully believed to be dead show such surprising signs of life, that he stood there for a few precious seconds, gaping as if in a dream.

Then he made a wild spring to one side and gained the shelter of a tree.

"Oh! What a socker!" he exclaimed, as the enraged and bleeding animal came full tilt against the trunk of the tree.

Before he could say more, or try to form any plan of action, he found himself obliged to spin around that same trunk with all the rapidity he could command, for the elk was apparently determined to overtake him, and those towering antlers seemed pointed with spikes, in the eyes of the startled lad as he strained every effort to keep beyond their reach.

Bluff was really alarmed by this time. He knew that any unfortunate slip on his part would precipitate a tragedy.

"I laughed at Jerry and the wild dogs that chased him around and around, but never again for me!" he gasped, as he kept up the weary circle, hugging the trunk as closely as possible.

This, however, caused him to remember that on the other occasion his chum had finally managed to gain the victory through his own gun, and Bluff suddenly came to a knowledge of the fact that he did have a gun gripped in his hand, and which also contained five more shots.

"Hold on! Give me a breathing spell, hang you! I'll fix you yet!" he managed to exclaim, though he would better have husbanded his breath to better purpose.

The elk was not a bit accommodating. Perhaps the animal understood that so long as it kept Bluff in rapid motion the human enemy could not find a chance to use that fire-stick again, that shot out such burning missiles. At any rate, it persevered, and poor Bluff's tongue fairly hung out with fatigue.

In desperation, he was about to turn around, trusting to luck to get in a shot that would put an end to this awful chase in a circle, when the elk tripped and fell.

"Now!" gasped Bluff.

You would have thought he must have leveled his gun and fired. Jerry or Frank would, in all probability, have done that very thing. But Bluff seemed to go back to the first law of Nature, which is self-preservation.

He dropped his gun, and seizing a limb that happened to be within reach, climbed into the tree with the agility of a monkey. Fear spurred him on to do his best work just then.

"Don't you wish you could?" he shouted derisively down at the elk, which was jumping up, and making all manner of threatening movements with its antlered head, much after the fashion of an enraged goat, Bluff thought.

He was safe enough, but somehow Bluff did not like the idea of having to wait in the tree until his chums, drawn by his calls, came to the rescue. Why, he would never hear the end of the thing! It was too horrible to contemplate, and in some fashion he must secure possession of his gun to end the career of that pugnacious old bull elk.



Bluff had read more or less about the strange adventures that befall hunters of big game. He also remembered how one man had fished for his gun, and successfully, under similar conditions.

Having no cord in his pocket, he deliberately tore his handkerchief into strips and knotted them together. When this failed to reach the ground, he fastened it to the end of a long and stout "sucker," or sprout, which he cut from the body of the tree.

A running loop was made at the other end, for he could see that his gun lay in such a position that the barrel was tilted.

Bluff then began to angle. Many times he came near accomplishing his purpose, when something occurred to break up his plans.

"I'll never give up," he declared, when the elk moved forward, as if suspecting something, and endeavored to catch the dangling noose in its antlers, which Bluff would not have happen for anything.

"If I was trying to catch you, I'd want something stronger than this rag. Now please wander away again, and let me have another try," he said; and then, as the animal did walk off a dozen paces, as if encouraging him to descend, he courteously added, "Thank you."

A minute later he was thrilled to find that his erratic loop had actually dropped over the end of the gun barrel. A quick jerk at the proper instant tightened the clutch, and after that it was the easiest thing in the world to pull the weapon up within reach of his trembling hands.

"Now, we'll see if you're going to have the laugh on me, you old scamp! Hi! Hold on, there! Who said you could walk away? Come back here, and have it out! I dare you!"

The elk, as if suspecting that all was not well, had indeed started to move off. But when Bluff made a great feint of coming down, he succeeded in exciting the animal's anger again, and caution was flung to the winds.

Bluff watched for his chance, and when it came he made sure work of it by sending a bullet through the heart of the fighting elk.

Even then he waited a little while.

"Going to try getting up again? This time I'm ready for you, old fellow!" he said to the fallen beast; but presently it became patent, even to his inexperienced eyes, that the elk had breathed its last.

"Now, if Will were only here," Bluff remarked enviously, as he put one foot on his prize and tried to look very unconcerned, as if knocking down such big game might be a matter of almost daily occurrence with him.

Not knowing how to go about cutting the elk up, Bluff headed back toward the camp. Before leaving the spot he thought to bleed the quarry, after a fashion, for he understood that such a thing was always done to make the meat taste better.

Half an hour later he showed up in the camp. It was next to impossible to get lost in that valley, which might account for Bluff finding his way back with comparative ease.

Jerry was lounging alongside one of the tents, engaged in getting his fishing tackle in order, for a try in the pool below the falls.

"Shall we send the horses out to tote it in?" he asked, after the usual fashion of greeting greenhorns when they come back from a hunt apparently unattended by success.

"Did you hear me shoot?" asked Bluff carelessly.

"Why, yes, twice; and some time apart. What was it—a crow or a jack-rabbit?"

Bluff only smiled as Mr. Mabie came out of the tent and glanced at him.

"What would you say that was, sir?" he asked, thrusting something in front of the old stockman.

Starting back, Mr. Mabie looked hastily at the hairy object.

"An elk's tail, as sure as you live!" he remarked, his face relaxing in a smile.

"What's that?" roared Jerry, springing to his feet.

"Oh, you needn't get excited about it. Do you see the dull spots on my knife? Well, I bled my game, all right, just as I wanted to do with that bully good blade that was left behind; and if Reddy will only go back with me, we can bring the old fellow in on a horse," said Bluff coolly.

"Count me in on that!" exclaimed Will, rushing out of his impromptu dark-room, and waving the bottle in which he was making a solution of hypo.

"I think I'll go along, too," remarked Frank, appearing from some other place.

When the party started forth presently, there were six of them with the horse—the chums, Reddy, and Mr. Mabie himself.

"I am beginning to believe you boys will corral everything in sight if you keep on the way you've started. A grizzly, a sheep, and now an elk; and only thirty hours with me! H'm! Perhaps I may not be able to show you as much about big-game hunting as I expected," said the stockman, who seemed vastly amused at the energy shown by his young guests at the ranch.

"Oh, we can pull a trigger, all right, sir, but there are a thousand things we want to know about these natives that books never teach. I'm like a sponge, and can keep on soaking up information all the time," laughed Frank.

Incautiously, Bluff let fall certain words that gave Jerry a clue as to the true situation.

"A tree! Shot him downward from a tree, eh? Now, since you've so frankly confessed that much, why not tell the whole blooming story, Bluff?" he cried.

"There isn't much to it. I saw the elk. Then I shot him, and he fell over. After that the elk saw me. He chased me about a tree. I remembered how fast Jerry said he ran around when those wild dogs were after him, and I wanted to go him just one better. Then I found a chance to climb when the wounded elk stumbled. After that I made a rope out of my handkerchief and fished with a loop until I caught the barrel of my gun. That's all."

"A whole history in a nutshell. But we must be getting near the place, according to what you said at the start. There are the three oaks growing in a clump. Now where's your dead elk?"

As Frank spoke he turned to Bluff. That individual was staring around in evident bewilderment.

"It was sure here I met him. There's the little glade, and this big tree is the one I climbed up into. I saw him lying there. I know he was dead when I bled him. But I must be blind, for the elk certainly is not here now. Oh! Did he come to life again, and run away?" said poor Bluff, in despair, looking at the tail, which he had thrust into his belt.



CHAPTER XII

HARD LUCK

"Talk to me about your dreamers!" muttered Jerry, shrugging his shoulders.

"But I tell you it was so!" asserted Bluff, firing up.

"The boy is right," said Mr. Mabie, as he stepped forward and fastened his eyes upon the ground.

Frank saw immediately what the stockman had in mind. These things mentioned by Bluff could never have happened without leaving some tangible traces behind. Where a big elk had been slain there must be signs of the blood that had flowed.

"Look here, and see for yourself, Jerry." And Mr. Mabie pointed to the ground at his feet.

"There's some marks of hoofs around, I admit, and they seem to circle about the tree, just as Bluff says; and—yes, that's blood on the ground, as sure as you live! I guess I'm on the wrong track. He did have a merry circus. He did shoot an elk, but where has the blooming thing gone?" exclaimed the scoffer.

"That's just what I'm going to find out through Reddy, here. He has some local reputation as a tracker. Put your nose down to it, and let us know what happened, Reddy."

In accordance with the request of the ranchman, the cowboy threw himself upon his hands and knees.

"Indians!" he announced, before they had taken half a dozen breaths.

"What?" cried Bluff, staring hard.

"Cree Indians been here. I can see the print of their moccasins plain as day; and here's where they dragged the elk along, heading toward the river!"

Reddy seemed to have not the slightest trouble in reading the signs, and yet to the boys there was not the faintest vestige of marks. Presently, however, Frank was able to make out the print of a foot in the soil, and he noted that the one who made it wore no heels. His footwear must be moccasins.

"H'm!" remarked Mr. Mabie. "Just what I suspected. The thieving Crees have robbed our young friend of his prize. Too bad! But there are more elk around, Bluff, and I hope you'll have other chances."

"But that one chased me so hard I wanted revenge. I calculated on eating a bit of his flank for my dinner. What's the matter with our following up the scamps, and making them give up some of my game, anyhow?" demanded the disappointed hunter.

"Impossible just now. The river is close by, and they undoubtedly had boats in which they fled, carrying off your elk. By this time they've shot the rapids, and must be miles below. Possibly we may run across the rascals later, when we also go down the river," replied Mr. Mabie.

Reddy had gone off, his head bent low, and they understood that he was following the trail, much as a hound would have done, with this one difference, that whereas a dog pursues by scent alone, the cowboy had to depend on his eyes.

"But if game is so plentiful, why should these Crees want to steal my elk?" pursued Bluff, who could not be easily satisfied.

"That bothers me to answer. Perhaps they happened to be out of ammunition. There are several other explanations, but in my opinion the most probable is the natural meanness of certain dusky bucks; just as your able tramp refuses to do a lick of work, while he'll walk twenty miles for nothing," smiled the other.

"There comes Reddy back. Perhaps he knows more about it now," said Frank, who was decidedly interested in the enigma.

They waited until the cowboy joined the circle about the tree.

"Boats, Reddy?" asked Mr. Mabie.

"Three. Must have carried around the falls without our knowing it. Hung about here, waiting to steal something from our camp. Had a snare set for jack-rabbits. Saw some torn skins in the camp," was what the cowboy replied, in his jerky way.

"Oh! Then I guess they must have been here before we came, and all you say makes me believe I was right. They have no arms, or else their powder and shot have run out; and for some reason they are afraid to meet whites. Well, the elk's gone, and we can't mend that. Let's return to camp. You have the tail to show for your little adventure, my lad."

"Yes, sir; and the memory of it all, which will haunt me for a good long time," said Bluff, with a shake of his head, as he contemplated the historic tree around which he had done a little Marathon.

"But I mean to get a picture of this tree, anyhow, just to remind Bluff how valuable a good pair of sprinting legs may be sometimes," laughed Will.

And he did, with Bluff standing alongside; for once the official photographer demanded a pose, he was bound to get it, or throw up his job, for such was the law of the Rod, Gun and Camera Club.

Then they retraced their steps to the camp, Frank more than usually thoughtful, for anything in the shape of a mystery always set him to puzzling, and he more than once wondered whether they would ever learn just why those Crees stole the elk Bluff had downed after so much trouble.

"How many did there seem to be?" he asked Reddy, a little later.

"You mean of the thieving reds? I counted nine in all, four bucks, two squaws and three pappooses," replied the other.

"But if I understand rightly, these Indians never take their families when they go on the war-path. Is that so, Reddy?" Frank asked quickly.

"Say, get that notion out of your head right away. They ain't no Crees lookin' for trouble these days. My idea is just this: This is a family travelin' acrost country, for some reason or other. P'raps they got kicked out of their pesky old village. I've knowed such things to happen. Then they run short of meat, and didn't have guns or powder. Under such conditions any redman would steal."

"Well, who could blame them, with women and children to feed? I guess you hit the nail on the head that time, Reddy. Glad to think that way, too. We can spare the elk, and it will spur Bluff on to other hunting deeds. He's had a taste now, and the fever will work on him."

Meanwhile, Jerry had started his fishing below the cataract. There were places just at the end of the foam-splashed outlet of the big pool where they had seen noble trout jumping, and it was here he dropped his flies.

After trying them a short time, and ascertaining that the trout paid little attention to the feathery lure, practical Jerry actually descended to the plebian angleworm, though he blushed when Frank came over to watch him.

"Got to have some for supper, you know," he remarked. "Now, if I was only doing this thing for the sport, nothing could tempt me to use live bait. I'm at it in the strict commercial sense this time."

"I understand; and Jerry, let me tell you, the sportsman who, when trout-hungry, refuses to go back to first principles, and use grubs and worms after the fish refuse the fly, is to be pitied, that's all," laughed Frank.

"Hey! That's a dandy, all right! See him jump, will you? Wow! He's all of two pounds, and as strong as an ox! I hope the leader holds. It's been frayed some by rubbing over rocks in the past. Please pick up that landing-net and attend to the beauty, if I can coax him close enough, Frank."

Frank landed not only that beauty, but several more, ere he wandered off to do something else. Jerry kept on fishing until he could not get another bite, by which time he had quite a nice string of the speckled beauties.

"Perhaps enough for a decent meal; though if Bluff develops his usual appetite, the rest of us would go hungry. I wonder if a fellow mightn't have some luck up above the falls? Guess I'll make a shift to try," he said to himself.

The last view he had of the camp showed him Reddy amusing Bluff by making flying tosses of his rope and lassoing all sorts of objects, from the hat on the head of the admiring witness, to something tossed up in the air.

Jerry labored up the hillside until he finally came to where he could look down at the water as it shot over the edge. It fell with a great deal of noise, striking the rocks below in many places with terrific force.

"Ugh! It would just about bang a fellow to pieces to drop over there," he remarked, commencing to move upstream, looking for a promising place to begin his fishing operations.

Presently he discovered a log that jutted out over the swift current. From this outlook he believed he could allow his bait to float down into an eddy that looked as though it might be the home of a big hermit trout.

Jerry tested the log as he cautiously advanced. He realized that he was taking some chances in creeping out to its furthest end, but so far as he could ascertain it seemed to be firm enough.

Straddling the log, he started to get his baited hook in motion. The wriggling worms sank a little in the swirl. At first, he was unable to just master the difficult problem of how to influence the bait to float into the eddy. Twice he failed to accomplish this, but studying the rushing stream a little, he fancied that by a certain throw in the start he could gain his end.

Sure enough, it worked, and like a charm. The baited hook was drawn back into the foam-flecked eddy, and he saw it vanish from view. Then came a most tremendous jerk, that almost caused him to lose his balance and the log to quiver, with sickening possibilities.

But Jerry glued his legs against the sides, just as he had been told to do with a refractory pony, and managed to recover his balance. The trout was a gamey one, and the swiftness of the current made the task of securing him doubly hard.

"I'll work, all right, for everything I hook here," panted Jerry, after ten minutes had passed, and he tossed his exhausted prize over to the bank.

But he would not give up. Where one such fine, fat fellow held out there was certainly a chance for more, so he continued his fishing.

Unknown to him, Will had also wandered up that steep hillside, searching for a new view of the wonderful cataract. Pushing through the dense thickets, he chanced to catch a glimpse of the lone fisherman.

"Now, that's what I call a picturesque sight! Look at the chap perched out on the very end of that log, with the water rushing below like a mill-race! Here's where I get you, my duck. Fancy to what ends a fisherman will go in order to enjoy his favorite sport."

Will seemed to forget entirely that he was willing to undertake just as long a pilgrimage and buck up against as difficult problems simply to get one snapshot that appealed to his soul.

"There! He's got another fish on! My! How it pulls! I wouldn't be out on that log, doing such a job, for anything. But I just bet Jerry is as happy as a clam. He sets his teeth, and holds on as if he had a whale, and perhaps it is a big un! I must get him again in that position. Why, although he don't know it, he's just giving me the best thing of the day!"

Will rapidly adjusted his camera, and looked down to see that he had the proper focus before snapping the shutter. The light was good up there, and he believed he must have the greatest success with such a picture as that. Besides, it had the genuine article of life in it, which he always sought in taking his views.

Then he pressed his finger, in the belief that he was about to snatch a snapshot bound to give the four chums the keenest satisfaction in days to come.

"Oh!"

The startled exclamation broke involuntarily from the lips of Will even at the very second he took his picture, and he let his beloved camera fall to the ground, at the risk of doing it some material damage.

It was not this seeming mishap that had brought the startled cry from his lips, but the crash of sundering wood, and the sudden disappearance of the lone fisherman below the rim of the river bank; for the log had finally betrayed Jerry, and dropped him into that swirling, maddening current above the high falls!



CHAPTER XIII

AN INVADER IN CAMP

Will dashed madly toward the river bank. It happened that he was somewhat below the point where Jerry's mishap had come about. Hence, he was able to reach the edge of the stream in a dozen seconds.

Even that short time had been enough to sweep the imperiled lad past the place. Will was thrilled with horror to see his chum in the midst of the churning current, trying to cling to a slippery rock, from which insecure hold he was being gradually but surely sucked by the fierce power exerted by the rushing stream.

Never had the roar of the falls sounded more terrible to poor Will than when he saw Jerry suspended, as it were, above the great drop. Once he lost his hold, he must be swept irresistibly over the edge, down to those cruel rocks below.

Will would have foolishly attempted to reach his chum had he chanced to be opposite the place where Jerry hung on with the desperation of despair. As it was, he could do nothing, which was just as well, for there must only have been two of them given over to the river once he ventured into that mill-race.

"Help! Oh, help!" he shrieked.

The roar of the cataract must have muffled his call, so that it might just as well have been a whisper.

Just as Will was about to give up in despair, and count Jerry as good as lost, he made a sudden discovery. Another figure had appeared on the bank, and just at a point opposite the rock to which Jerry clung.

"Reddy! Save him! save him!" cried Will, wringing his hands.

Then he became mute with suspense. The cowboy did not recklessly rush into the boiling flood, for he knew only too well that such a course could not help the imperiled one. Instead, Will saw him whirling his rope about his head with lightning-like haste.

His heart in his eyes, Will continued to stare, holding his very breath. He saw the coils of rope fly out just as when Reddy was giving his exhibition in camp. Not far did they have to speed, for Jerry was close to the shore.

"Oh! what luck! He's done it! He's done it! Jerry has the rope now, and he is coming in, hand over hand! Bully! bully! bully!"

Will was so excited that he fairly danced up and down as he shouted these words aloud. Then, bethinking himself of what a magnificent picture he was losing, he took several steps in the direction of the spot where his camera lay. Stopping hastily, as his affection for his chum more than counterbalanced his love for an effective scene, he turned around and hurried to join the others.

Jerry was ashore, and wringing the hand of Reddy, when Will arrived.

Regardless of the rescued boy's wet clothes, Will threw his arms around him.

"Oh! you gave me such a fright, Jerry! I'm quivering all over! How lucky Reddy happened to be here, and with his rope, too!" After saying which he turned his attention to the smiling cowboy, and squeezed his hand ardently.

"I sure beat my record that time, boys. I've roped some queer things, but never a feller that was going whoopin' over a falls. Don't know why I slung the old lariat over my arm when I started up here to see what luck Jerry had. Mighty glad now I did, though. It'd been purty hard to get him out with only a stick to stretch over."

Reddy was extremely modest, and only too willingly agreed not to say a word about the mishap and rescue to any of the others; and Will was also bound to secrecy by Jerry.

Back in the woods they made a fire, where Jerry succeeded in drying his clothes.

"Anyhow, I saved that fish," he announced, with a satisfied shake of the head.

Will looked at the cowboy inquiringly.

"Sure thing he did. When he came ashore he had that line fast in his hand, and pulled the trout in before he'd even shake. He's a real sport, all right," said Reddy, with admiration in his manner.

"It seems as though these things are born in one. Now, I'd have dropped my rod the very first thing, and howled for help," remarked Will.

"How about your camera?" asked Jerry wickedly.

"H'm! That's a different thing. But when I saw you go in I did let that fall. Luckily, no damage was done. My heart would be broken if the blessed little black box got out of shape. But I've one picture of you on that log," announced Will.

"And that will be enough to give me a clammy feeling every time I look at it," nodded Jerry, who was in secret more shaken by his recent terrible experience than he cared to show.

They went down a little later, Jerry carrying his two dearly-earned trout. And when the others praised the fisherman that evening at supper for supplying their camp table, they little dreamed how near their hard-working chum had come to disaster in his efforts to land the enticing finny beauties of the river.

Besides the trout, they enjoyed mutton that night, for Frank's mountain sheep was brought into use. Perhaps it was tough, perhaps the flavor did not strike the boys quite as favorably as some mutton they had eaten at home, but such trifles could not dampen their enthusiasm a particle, and they voted the meal a grand success all around.

Seated about the blaze afterward, they chatted until late. Bluff was inclined to be a bit moody, and sat by himself, listening to all that was said, but taking no share in the conversation.

Frank noticed that he seemed to fondle his rifle more than usual, and he believed the other must be thinking of the elk he had shot, but which had been stolen by those wandering thieves of Crees.

"He's still worrying about that butcher knife of his," whispered Jerry, nudging Frank as he spoke. "I wonder will the fellow ever forget it?"

"Now, I was watching him, and, to tell the truth, I fancy Bluff has become aroused to the delight of bringing down big game. That elk was a revelation to him. See how he listens while Billy is telling of the panther tracks he saw not a great way off. I wouldn't put it past Bluff to aspire to knocking over a panther if the chance ever came his way.

"Huh! I hope he is lucky enough to get a fatal shot in, then; for one of those gentry is apt to maul a fellow good and hard if only wounded. Billy has been telling of some fierce times he's had with the beasts. His arms are all scarred up from deep cuts made by the claws of a panther years ago," remarked Jerry.

"Whew! Hear what he says? will you?" remarked Frank.

"Why, yes, kid," observed the old cowboy, in answer to a question Bluff had put, "sometimes I've knowed 'em to jump into a camp and snatch the meat right from under the nose of a feller. Let a painter git good an' hungry, an' he ain't afraid of anythin' but fire. Then, ag'in, I've knowed 'em to act as cowardly as coyotes. I kinder reckon the season has considerable to do with their actin'."

"But that was only one man. The beast wouldn't dare jump in a camp like this, no matter how hungry he might be?" continued Bluff, who seemed strangely interested in the subject, Frank thought.

The old cowpuncher laughed as though amused.

"That's somethin' I'd hate to commit myself on, younker. All I say is a painter ain't to be depended on. He might prove a coward, like some cats, and again you'd be fair astonished at his darin'. Long ago I made up my mind never to give him more of a chance than I could help. It's war to the knife between me and any such prowlin' critter. I can't git my gun workin' too quick to please me when I sees the yaller eyes of a painter hoverin' round my camp."

"Are their eyes always yellow?" asked Bluff eagerly.

"I reckons they are, kid; leastways all that I ever see was marked that way," replied the cowboy, reaching out for a brand with which to light the cigarette he had been rolling between his fingers, just as Reddy was also doing at the time.

"Like those yonder, do you mean?" said Bluff, pointing behind Billy, to a point where the dense thicket came close to the border of the camp.

Every eye was instantly turned in that direction. Frank himself was thrilled when he discovered that there were twin glowing eyes among those bushes, eyes that had all the attributes of the cat tribe.

Various exclamations arose from the group.

"By gum! It's a painter, sure as you live!" said Billy calmly.

"Never heard of one so bold!" whispered Reddy hoarsely, feeling for the weapon he usually carried attached to his belt.

"Everybody sit quiet, and see what he means to do. He won't attack us, but it may be you'll see him make a jump for the balance of that sheep over yonder. The scent of the game has aroused his hunger. Look at him raise his head to see!"

Mr. Mabie spoke these words in a low but tense tone. He was more or less excited by the strange actions of the prowling panther.

"I reckon it's a mother, with hungry cubs near by. She's just bound to get some grub for the kits, men or no men. Now, if you lie low, and watch, I reckon you'll see something you never expected to see in your born days."

Billy sat there motionless. Only Frank saw the movement of Bluff when he raised his rifle, and while he would have warned his chum against the folly of firing, before he could frame words to carry his meaning, the quick report came, causing a sensation among those around the fire.

The crouching beast, infuriated by receiving a sudden, painful wound, launched straight out, and landed in the midst of the campers!



CHAPTER XIV

THE COWBOY GUIDE

Everybody was in motion at once.

Some went over backward, regardless of appearances; others rolled aside, bent upon placing some little distance between themselves and the invader. Bluff was trying to work the mechanism of his gun in order to secure a second shot, but as so often happens when the hunter is excited, he failed to accomplish what should have been an easy change.

The maddened panther had crouched again after landing close to the fire. Perhaps what acted more than anything else to keep the beast from leaping once more was the uncertainty of choosing among so many which he should attack. If he only knew from whence had come that sting which had given him such sudden agony there would have been no hesitation at all.

One, however, did not join in the almost universal retreat. This man was Reddy. He had been leaning forward at the time, as stated, about to pick up a brand with which to light his cigarette. Some impulse urged him to seize a flaming, heavy stick that stuck out of the fire, and make a frantic attack upon the crouching panther.

Frank never forgot that spectacle. The panther, with ears flattened back, and fangs exposed, snarled and carried on just like a big house cat when assailed by a small but saucy dog, striking out from time to time, as though trying to reach the arm that wielded the cudgel.

The flaming brand caused too much fear to allow of an attack. Still, the ugly beast would not give way, and leap out of its perilous position.

"Where's my gun?" At least three different shouts arose.

"Get out of range there, kid!" bellowed Billy, who had drawn a heavy revolver, and, on hands and knees, sought to get a line on the common enemy.

"But that's my panther!" cried the voice of Bluff.

Frank saw him once more bring his rifle up to his shoulder. Although hardly in a position to see what was going on, Will seemed to be fumbling with something in a desperate fashion. The fellow, as usual, was thinking only of what a grand thing it would be if he could only get that scene for posterity to gaze upon.

"I hope Bluff aims straight!" Frank was saying to himself, for he knew there was more or less danger of the bullet doing some damage to one of the campers who might happen to be on the other side, partly screened by the brush.

The crash of the gun followed.

"Wow!" shouted Reddy, falling back as the panther tumbled over in his direction, for he knew what damage those poisonous claws might do in the dying agony of the beast.

Then the rest of the scattered company appeared. Some crawled out from the brush, others arose from flattening themselves on the ground, while still another group made their exit from under the canvas of the tent close by.

The beast was writhing in its last hold on life.

"That's my panther, I told you!" said Bluff, jumping to his feet, and still holding on to his gun.

He was as white as a ghost, but a fire shone in his eyes telling of the spirit that had finally been aroused there. Jerry would soon have to look to his laurels now.

Mr. Mabie laughed as he patted Bluff on the back.

"I reckon it is, youngster; but you took big chances that time. I'd advise you to slow up a bit in the future, when shooting in the dark. That impetuous nature will sure get you into more than one scrape, otherwise," he said soberly.

Bluff hung his head. He knew now that he had been too hasty, when there were so many older campaigners than himself around; but the loss of that elk had rankled in his heart, so that he could not resist the sudden temptation to redeem his reputation.

Jerry, for once, had nothing to say, at least to the successful one. He bent over the dead panther, and examined it with curiosity. Will was loudly lamenting the fact that once again he had found himself left in the lurch.

"You fellows move too fast," he declared. "Now, if Bluff hadn't put in his oar, I was just about ready to shoot off a flashlight picture. Just think what it would mean to see Reddy, here, banging that big cat over the head with his torch! Oh! it's just too mean for any use! Everything goes wrong just when I'm going to squeeze my bulb, and get the best picture there ever was! Even a rotten old log has to go and break off short—"

"Hey, Will! Let up on that whining, won't you?" cried Jerry, just then, fearful lest his secret was about to come out.

Frank looked suspiciously at both his chums. Perhaps he may have entertained a dim thought that there was something between them that they did not want known; but other things soon put this out of his mind for the time being.

"We must keep an eye out the rest of the time we're here," said Billy, after the company had settled down again around the fire.

"Why?" asked Bluff, looking up from admiring the sleek fur of his prize.

"The brutes often hunt in couples, you know. This was the mother, just as I had an ijee, and she's got half-grown cubs around somewhere. If the mate's near by he may give us a call sooner or later."

Bluff's hand had stolen out toward his gun at these words.

"Here! No more of that, my lad!" said Mr. Mabie. "You've had your fling, and come out of it mighty lucky. Don't try it again while I'm around, please. If any more uninvited visitors drop in, you leave them to the rest of us."

But there was no further alarm. During the night some of them declared they heard strange cries off in the woods, which Mr. Mabie said must have been the whining of the panther cubs, looking in vain for their mother.

Frank was distressed.

"I hope they're really big enough to forage for themselves. If there's anything I dislike it's to shoot bird or beast that has young depending upon it. Perhaps the old male may look after them," he suggested.

"Well," smiled Mr. Mabie, "I hardly think that will prove to be the case; at least they don't, as a rule. But I've got an idea the cubs are of a good size, and can find some means of subsisting. For my part, I wouldn't care if every panther in the Northwest were rubbed out. I've no love for the sly beasts. They've robbed me of more than one fine calf, I can tell you."

After breakfast a hunt was organized.

"We ought to get an elk before leaving up here," said the stockman as they prepared to go forth again in a squad; "and as this will be our last day in camp by the falls, we must look sharp."

"Then we make tracks to-morrow?" asked Frank.

"Hardly that, since we go by water. You've seen the three bullboats yonder. We send our tents and all other things around with the horses, while we shoot the rapids, and enjoy the most exhilarating boat ride you ever dreamed of. Just wait and see, boys. It will be something worth while."

After all, the stockman was unable to start out with them. He was subject to attacks of rheumatism, due to his age, and many exposures in the past. When one of these came on Mr. Mabie was unable to walk any distance, and, unfortunately, he experienced such an attack that morning.

"Sorry, boys, but it can't be helped. Reddy, here, will have to take my place. You don't need me, that's plain. Only don't be too reckless, now. That's the fault with most youngsters," and he shook his head at Bluff, who turned fiery red as his eyes fell upon the panther, which Billy was skinning at that moment.

Of course, Reddy was to act as guide to the party. He had been around the vicinity a number of times. Besides, he knew the habits of the elk, which used this valley for their feeding grounds, and if any one could lead them to success in their hunt it was the young cowboy.

Frank used to look at Reddy, and wonder if he had ever seen him before; but as that was out of the question, he came to the belief that it was simply a matter of resemblance.

"Look there!" exclaimed the guide, before they had gone two hundred steps from the camp, and pointing as he spoke.

"What was it?" asked Jerry eagerly.

"I saw a gray critter slinking away into that thicket!"

"The panther's mate!" cried Bluff excitedly, as he fingered his gun.

"I reckon it was; but we ain't lost no panther, and anyhow, this is a hunt for elk meat. Come along, boys," remarked Reddy hastily.

They tramped for half an hour steadily, going far beyond where Bluff had had his strange adventure with the wounded elk. Will trailed along in the rear, holding on to his beloved camera. The woods looked as though the recent dry weather had seared the leaves more or less, but they lacked the splendid gorgeous tints of autumn.

More than once the others had to wait for the straggler, or else call to him. He grew so interested in his surroundings, especially when trying to get a view that particularly appealed to his fancy, that he was apt to forget their mission entirely.

Once he aroused himself to the fact that he could no longer see his comrades, or catch a sound of their voices. This disagreeable idea caused him to hurry, and no doubt he became less cautious in navigating some of the various narrow paths, for before he realized that he had started a small avalanche, he was caught up in its gathering swoop, and found himself being carried swiftly down a rather steep declivity, unable to stay his rush.



CHAPTER XV

IN THE RAPIDS

"Give him another call, Frank!"

"That fellow beats all creation for lagging! I believe he'd rather snap off his old camera than eat, any day. If he doesn't look out, that panther may get—Glory to goodness! What's that, Reddy?" cried Jerry.

"Sounds like a bit of an avalanche, though this here is a queer time of year for that. Generally comes, you know, in snow time, or when the rains arrive," was the cowboy's ready answer.

"But—Will—he may have started it, and gone down into one of these beastly holes!" observed Bluff uneasily.

"Let's go back, fellows, and make sure," remarked Frank instantly.

They retraced their steps, Reddy leading the way, and every one on the lookout for any signs of an unusual happening.

"There's where it fell, and it looks like quite a lot of stuff had gone down the slope," said their guide presently.

"Hello, Will! Will!" shouted Frank.

"Well, I'm waiting for you," said a quiet voice close at hand.

"Where in the world are you, pard?" burst out Jerry.

"Oh, here," came the reply.

"Ginger! I believe he's down the bank!" cried Bluff.

"Just what he is! Come here, fellows! Did you ever see anything to beat that? Talk to me about your lucky dogs! Here's one that takes the cake every time!" sang out Jerry, as he thrust his head out beyond the edge of the platform where the slope began.

"Oh, I don't know. There have been cases where people have been saved from all sorts of disasters by the fortunate presence of a rope. Chuck us a loop, Reddy, will you, please?" said Will, and Jerry became as dumb as an oyster.

No wonder Frank laughed, even while he watched the cowboy dropping his lariat down as the other so coolly requested. Will had slid some twenty feet down the steep bank, along with the loose surface stuff, which gathered force as it proceeded. Then a projecting stone had caught the bag of his coat, and he was supported in this fashion by the stout fabric.

"What are you trying to do down there? Expect to cut me out of my job as the cliff climber of the party?" asked Frank jokingly.

"Not so that you'd notice. Thought I might get a better view down along here. But first of all, save my precious camera, before I consent to come up," answered Will, and he insisted upon fastening the same to the dangling rope.

Bluff saw his chance to get back at his chum for more than one indignity along the same line that he had suffered in the past, so he called out:

"Here, you! Just hold your horses! I'm going over yonder and strike you off as you hang there. It will do to amuse the girls when we get home. We don't often have a chance to bring the photographer into these pictures. Now, here you are. Look pleasant! There! That job's done! Now yank him up, fellows, and don't be too easy with him. He deserves a good digging for scaring us so."

But Will had suffered no material harm from his little slide.

"Glad I stopped part way," he observed, looking down, "for it's quite some distance to the bottom, and then those rocks would have bruised me more than a little. Yes, I agree with Bluff, there; it's better to be born lucky than rich."

After that they saw to it that Will did not lag behind. He was not to be trusted any more than could be helped.

Reddy was as good as his word. He eventually brought them within sight of several feeding elk. They carried out his further directions to the letter, and were thus enabled to approach within easy gunshot of the unsuspicious animals.

A program had been arranged, and every one knew just what part in it he was expected to play. Consequently, there was no confusion. Frank, Jerry and Bluff had their chance to aim. To each was assigned a different quarry, though after the first shot they were to fire as they pleased.

"Ready?" whispered the master of ceremonies, after Will had performed his little, necessary operation with his camera that would produce happy results.

"Yes," said Frank.

"Ditto!" from Jerry.

"Same here," came from Bluff.

"Then go!"

There followed a crash of firearms. Instantly confusion broke out among the little herd of feeding elk. One was down, another went limping off, to fall as Frank sent in a second hasty shot; while the balance fairly flew off in their fright.

"Hurrah!" shouted the hunters, as they saw that they had met with splendid success, since two of the big animals had fallen to their guns.

Bluff looked grimly disappointed.

"I hit my buck, for I saw him go down on his knees," he asserted moodily.

"Oh, that ain't anything. An elk often runs off with several bad wounds. I only hope he don't die in the woods somewhere," said Reddy, examining the tracks of those that had escaped.

"Will it pay us to follow them up and see if Bluff's buck fell?" asked Frank, more to please his chum than because they needed the game.

"Nope. The buck runs like he wasn't even hurt much. No ketchin' up with them fellers after that riot call. We'd best pay attention to what we've got, and return to camp," replied the guide; and Bluff shrugged his shoulders, saying:

"But I hit him, anyhow, I'll tell you that, fellows."

Frank found that all Reddy meant to do was to hang the two elk up, after they had cut some choice portions for immediate use. The other cowboys would come with the horses, on their way down the river, on the morrow, and secure the game.

"We got fooled out of elk steaks once and don't mean to again, I tell you," said Jerry, as he shouldered his portion of the load.

So they returned to camp.

"What's this?" said Mr. Mabie as they came filing in. "Back already, and only out two hours? Got some meat, too, I see. That's good. Such appetites as you boys are developing threaten to eat us out of house and home soon, unless we eke out with game. Who cut up the elk?"

"The boys all took a hand. They wanted to learn," smiled Reddy.

"I kind of thought they had," nodded the stockman, who could easily see that it was not the work of an experienced hand.

Bluff failed to catch the twinkle of humor in the other's eyes.

"Yes, and I could have made even a better job if I'd had the knife along I foolishly went and left at home," he remarked disconsolately, whereat Jerry, Will and Frank exchanged looks, and shrugged their shoulders, but said nothing; for in a case of that kind words are useless.

They were all very enthusiastic that night over the feast. The cook had dutifully pounded the steaks before placing the same on the fire, so that if they seemed tough it was not his fault.

The meat, however, was sweet and tasty; and besides, with hunger serving as the best-known sauce, who could complain?

Bluff kept on the lookout for the mate of his panther, but if the old fellow was prowling around he had more discretion than to show himself while these hunters were near by.

With the morning the camp was to be abandoned. Tents came down while they were eating breakfast, and everything was packed away in as small a compass as possible, for carrying on the backs of the pack horses, which were brought in from the pen, or corral, where they had been kept all this while, in charge of a guard.

The three bullboats awaited the adventurous ones. These were of the type much used in this far region of the Northwest, being fashioned of tough hides of bulls, and impervious to water.

Besides their guns, which were strapped to their backs, the voyagers carried little or nothing. In case of an upset they did not stand to worry over anything except saving their own lives.

So they quitted the camp under the cataract, where they had spent several very enjoyable days.



Swiftly they descended the stream for several miles. Then, according to agreement, they hauled in at the head of the rapids for a little rest and consultation before making the riffle.

Will had declared his intention of going down the shore and taking up his position about midway of the drop, so as to snap off the two descending bullboats as they came flying along in the midst of the churning water. Afterward he and Mr. Mabie would enter the last boat and make the plunge.

When he was ready, with his camera focused, he waved his arm as a signal. Immediately one of the boats started forth, containing Bluff and Reddy. When they got fully into the swirl the second craft appeared in sight.

Jerry sat in the bow of this, and Frank in the stern, the more responsible position. Immediately the two adventurous cruisers were in the rapids, and shooting down with incredible swiftness.

The leading boat managed to pull through all right, for Reddy knew the route; but disaster awaited that containing the two chums. Whether they struck a half-submerged rock, and were capsized, or made a miscalculation, and found themselves seized by the cross-current, no one ever knew.

"Look out!" shouted Jerry, and the next instant both he and Frank were overboard, and trying to keep away from the threatening snags while they went whirling down the rapids.



CHAPTER XVI

THE NEW CAMP

"Well, how did you like it, Jerry?"

"Talk to me about your shooting the whirlpool at Niagara in a barrel! That was bad enough for me! I swallowed enough water to float a ship! And here we are yet, each perched on a measly old slippery rock, in the middle of the rapids. Say! tell me about that, will you, Frank? How are we going to get ashore?"

The situation was comical as well as tragical. Just as Jerry said, each of the late inmates of the overturned bullboat, after being buffeted about furiously for several minutes, had succeeded in wildly scrambling on to an exposed rock.

There in midstream they sat, dripping wet, and with the foaming water surrounding them on all sides. In spite of his recent scare, Frank could not help laughing.

"What ails you? Perhaps you think I look funny?" exclaimed Jerry, who had received a few bruises, and was not feeling quite as cheerful as usual.

"Well, if you could only see yourself just now, you couldn't help laughing. Do you know you just put me in mind of that little god of good luck, Billikin!" called Frank, and in spite of his soreness Jerry had to grin in sympathy.

"Well, all right, then; there are two of us, and I guess you look as silly as I do. But there's that fellow, Will, getting his work in, as usual. A nice pair of geese we'll look like in his book of martyrs."

"Oh, that doesn't bother me one little bit just now. All I'm thinking about is how under the sun we're going to get out of this pickle," said Frank, sweeping his hand around, as if to call attention to the angry water that leaped and boiled in a frenzy of eagerness to get at its expected victims.

"Can't swim to the shore, that's sure. I suppose we'll just have to slip in again and make another turn of it. Thank goodness! the bottom of the old rapids is in sight, and as Bluff and Reddy have picked up our boat and the paddle, they could turn their hands at life saving when we came bobbing along."

"Hold on! Don't be rash, Jerry!" called Frank.

"Well, have you got anything better to say about it—any bright scheme to propose that offers to soften the blow?" demanded the other, pausing in his movement toward slipping off his unstable seat.

"I've just thought of something," answered Frank.

"Good for you, then. I guess I'm too badly rattled just now, for once, to do much thinking. What's the game, Frank?"

"Why not let Reddy and his reliable old rope come into play again?"

"Say! we'll have to beg or buy that clothesline from Reddy when we go away from here, and hang it up in our clubroom, as the most valuable asset we have. Without it what would become of us, eh? Talk about your trained nurses! That fellow is a whole hospital to the tenderfoot crowd. Call to him, please, and enlist his sympathy in the noble cause of yanking us in out of the wet."

So Frank did shout to the cowboy, who, having beached the two boats below the rapids, was hurrying up the shore. Mr. Mabie, too, had joined Will, so that presently the entire balance of the little party had gathered opposite.

Reddy entered into the game with spirit. He seemed to believe that these tragic occurrences must have just happened to give him a chance to show his skill in launching his rope.

"Jerry first, please!" called Frank.

"And why? Is it because I'm more valuable, or better-looking?" demanded Jerry.

"Oh, perhaps I want the pleasure of seeing how you look as you flounder through the rapids; and then, again, I may pick up a few points as to how not to do it."

"Tell me about that, will you! Some people have all the nerve!" shouted Jerry, for the rushing water made so much noise that an ordinary call could not have been heard.

Nevertheless, he accepted the flying noose that came shooting straight toward him, placed it under his arms, made sure that his gun was still fast to his back, and then fearlessly dropped off his perch.

There was considerable floundering on the part of the swimmer, much straining among the others who manipulated the rope, after which Jerry was assisted up the bank. His first act, after coughing up a lot of water, was to shake his fist at the grinning Frank, and then call out:

"Now you come on, and see how you like it!"

Frank did not wait upon the order of his going. As soon as he had the rope secured under his arms he slipped down into the foamy water, and began to buffet the current like a water spaniel.

After an exciting experience he, too, was drawn ashore, really none the worse for his adventure.

"Shake hands, Frank. You did nobly. I might have laughed, only I didn't seem to have breath enough," said Jerry, but the look in his eyes told how he had enjoyed seeing his chum passing through the same experience.

A fire was made, so that the soaked ones might dry off. Meanwhile, Mr. Mabie and Will succeeded in successfully shooting the rapids, though the latter was wise enough to leave his precious camera in the care of Bluff.

As noon found them still there, they took a "snack" before resuming the water journey. Below the fierce rapids the current was still swift, but there were places where the stream widened, and here the scenery was very fine, although the leaves looked more or less parched on account of the scarcity of rain during the summer that was passing.

An hour later, and they saw signs of smoke below.

"The boys have arrived ahead of us," said Mr. Mabie, pointing to the wreaths that ascended above the trees.

"All on account of our mishap. We lost three hours that way," remarked Frank, who felt a little provoked over the accident, since he aspired to be a capable canoeman at all times.

"Those things will happen to the best of guides at times," consoled the stockman. "I've often been in the drink myself. There are some cross-currents in our rapids, that one can only learn by experience. I rather expected you would go over, and instructed Reddy to be on the watch below."

"I wager I wouldn't get caught in that same way again, sir," asserted Frank.

"And I'm sure you wouldn't, lad. Experience is the best teacher, and if we didn't have some of these bad turns we'd grow too confident."

The camp was soon looking quite cozy again, when the tents had been placed and everything made snug.

"I'm going to like this place almost as well as the one under the cascade," remarked Will, who had been rather skeptical all along.

So the first evening came along, and supper was the same hearty, enjoyable meal they had always found it. The camp appetites worked overtime, the coffee tasted splendid, the elk steaks were just what each one had been hungering for, and as the cook supplemented these with a heaping platter of flapjacks the contentment of the four chums seemed complete.

"How long do we stay here, Mr. Mabie?" asked Bluff, never hesitating when in search of information.

"Possibly a week or so. Then back to the ranch, and a new line of experiences. This terribly dry weather is making me anxious, for the range is drying up, and we shall be hard set to find pasture for the cattle soon, unless rain comes along."

"Do you have such a dry spell in summer often up here?" asked Frank.

"Never saw the equal of this since I settled in the valley, many years ago. Now, down in Ohio, where I originally came from, they have drouths even in May, at times, and I've seen things go to the dogs more than once, gardens dried up, and even a forest fire in July, but never up here," replied the stockman.

"The woods look as though it wouldn't take a great deal to set them going," declared Frank. "One of the men threw a match down to-day, after lighting his cigarette, and it seemed like magic the way the fire flashed up. He had to be quick to jump on it before the breeze carried it along."

Mr. Mabie frowned.

"I won't ask you which man it was, Frank; but I must warn them again to be more than ordinarily careful about throwing matches around and leaving a fire burning anywhere in the woods. Many a grand forest has been ruined by such carelessness," he said.

"How does that happen, sir?" inquired Bluff.

"It is easy. The careless hunter or trapper leaves his dying fire when he breaks camp. Then up comes a sudden wind and some of the red cinders are blown into the dead leaves or punk grass. Fanned by the breeze, they become a roaring flame in a minute, and the mischief is done. Be careful, boys, please."

"We certainly will, sir," replied Frank sincerely. "Not to speak of the damage done, it must be mighty unpleasant to be caught in a forest fire. I've read of such things, but never hankered for a personal experience."

On the following day they started to look into the possibilities for big game around the new camp.

"Reddy, here, says he knows of a bear den that we ought to visit some time later. While at it, you boys must see all there is going in the way of sport, for you may never come out this way again, though I hope that will not be the case. To-day, however, we will take things a bit easy," remarked the ranchman.

Although the stockman did not speak any plainer, Frank knew just what he meant.

"He thinks we must be feeling the effects of our little excitement yesterday, Jerry, and that the soreness in our muscles will take our ambition away for to-day," he said aside to his chum.

"Tell me about that, will you! To prove that we're tougher than Mr. Mabie thinks, let's you and I engineer a little hunt of our own?" proposed the other quickly.

Accordingly, they started out, going down the valley.

"The walk will do us good, anyhow," declared Frank, "even if we don't run across any big game."

"I was asking Mr. Mabie about moose, and he said that occasionally one is seen in this region, though generally they hang out further east. I've always wanted to get a moose, but was never able to be up in the woods where they are found, when the law was off. How about you, Frank? Ever shoot at one?"

"Never had that luck, though I've seen many in the summer time, in Maine. Somehow, it seems to go against the grain doing this hunting at such a queer time. I guess it won't be long before they have as strict laws up here as we have to protect such game as deer and elk."

"How about panthers and grizzlies?" asked Jerry.

"They don't want to protect those fellows. You've got a right to knock one over, or a wolf, any time you want, if he doesn't get you first," laughed Frank.

An hour later they separated, Frank to look along one ridge, while Jerry had taken a notion to see what the other might have in the shape of game.

Frank spent quite a long time scouring the woods that covered the side of the valley. He had not put up anything worth while, and was even thinking about heading back to the place where he had agreed to meet his chum, when a distressing little accident occurred.

Just as he was hurrying down a steep bank his foot caught in a vine, and he was hurled forward with such violence that his head, coming in contact with the hard ground, received such a blow that he was rendered unconscious.

Frank never knew just how long he remained insensible. It might have been only a few minutes, or perhaps half an hour slipped by while he lay there. When he finally opened his eyes he looked up into a dusky face, and realized that it belonged to an Indian!



CHAPTER XVII

AT THE CAMPFIRE OF THE CREES

Frank was not at all alarmed. In the first place, he had been assured by Mr. Mabie that these Crees were not inclined to be hostile. Then, again, he saw that it was no fierce face of a warrior that bent over him, but the pitying one of a child.

"Hello! Who are you?" he asked, a little weakly, for his head was still swimming more or less from his shock.

"Little Mink," came the reply, though the boy apparently had to nerve himself to keep from running away.

"And you found me knocked out, did you? What are you doing here, Little Mink?" Frank sat up as he spoke, though he realized that he would be unsteady on his feet when he tried to stand.

"Teepee down by river, not far off. Little Mink have snare for rabbit. Him go see if ketch one, find paleface here. Think dead, then him open eyes. Good!"

Frank was amused at the air of the little fellow. He knew something about the ways of civilized Indians, having been among them in Maine, hence he could see that this boy was endeavoring to ape the manners of his elders.

"Would you help me get down to your camp, Little Mink? I feel weak after my tumble, and my own camp is far away," he said.

Now, Frank knew very well that a loud shout would, in all probability, have fetched Jerry to the spot. He had an object in making this appeal to the Indian lad, and watched his dusky face closely as the other considered the proposal.

Perhaps Frank, fearing a refusal, may have put on more agony than the state of his feelings really warranted. At any rate, he succeeded in swerving the boy from a condition of caution to that of sympathy.

"Little Mink help. Him lead paleface to teepee," he said, and the look that accompanied the words told Frank as plainly as words could have done that the boy was trusting in his honor not to betray them.

Accordingly, he hung on to the lad, and in this fashion they went for half a mile or so, when the river was reached. Presently Frank discovered signs of a camp not far in the distance. A little pale smoke was rising over the thicket, and he also saw a conical skin teepee, while on the shore were three bullboats.

As Little Mink came into camp, assisting the white hunter, several squaws began an excited jabber that brought out a couple of bucks.

"A hungry-looking lot all around," was the mental comment of the young hunter.

He had seen that Little Mink did not look as though he had enjoyed a bountiful share of food lately, and the rest of the party were certainly no better off.

One of the bucks was an old man, yet he seemed to have a certain dignity about him. Frank's curiosity was now greater than ever. He made up his mind that there was something singular about this party of Crees who seemed to be wandering in the wilderness without guns, or any means for obtaining food, and, if possible, he meant to discover what the secret could be.

The old Indian approached, looking suspiciously at him. Frank put out his hand at once in a cordial manner.

"How!" he said, smiling in his engaging manner.

The other at once fell under the charm of Frank's smile.

"White boy much hurt?" he asked, looking at the dirt and blood on Frank's left hand, where he had cut himself slightly.

"No. I had a bad fall, and feel weak. Little Mink found me lying there, and let me come with him to your camp. I have friends above, a hunting party under the charge of Mr. Mabie, the stockman."

He saw the old fellow move uneasily at mention of the name.

"Shoot elk?" asked the other, nodding.

"Yes, sometimes, with gun," and Frank purposely held up his repeating rifle.

He saw the black eyes glitter enviously at sight of it, which made his curiosity only the stronger.

"Bad! bad!" muttered the Indian, though he did not explain what he meant; but Frank believed he must be thinking of the theft of the elk some days previous.

"You no guns here?" he asked, and the old Indian shook his head sadly, though a look of sudden anger also flitted across his strong face.

"Nothing, only hatchet and one knife. Take all else away when send us out from village. No care if squaw and pappoose die from hunger. Bad! bad! But some day p'raps Running Elk go back and make change. Wait! wait! No sleep on trail!"

Already was Frank beginning to see behind the mystery. For some cause this old brave and his immediate family had been chased out of the Cree village, many miles to the northwest. Deprived of weapons, they had been started on the river in the bullboats, to meet what fate had in store for them.

No wonder, then, that coming unexpectedly on the dead elk Bluff had shot, they had stolen it, for hunger stalked in their miserable camp, and the pappooses cried for the food the braves could not supply.

The only thing that still puzzled Frank was why they had not appealed to some of the whites. But there must be some good reason, he argued, for this. Perhaps it was only the natural pride an Indian feels, and which prevents him from admitting to the palefaces that he is helpless to supply the wants of his people.

"Name Frank," he said, touching his breast "What call you?"

"Running Elk, chief among Crees. Long he lead them in the hunt and in battle. But a serpent come among my people and poison all against Running Elk. Now they think the half-breed Pierre La Motte best man to follow. Him talk, talk, all time, and warriors dream. Some day they wake up and know him for bad man. Then p'raps they ask Running Elk come back again. Wait, see!"

That was the Indian idea of patience. Frank could understand it all now. Plainly, a smart half-breed had managed to hypnotize the braves in the Cree village, and influence them to turn against their own chief. When he and his family resisted they were ignominiously exiled, and sent forth to face the world without means for providing food for the squaws and pappooses.

Somehow, Frank felt a strong sense of sympathy for the old exiled chief.

"You see the rancher, Mr. Mabie. I think he can do something for you," he said.

"I know him. He no like Running Elk and the Crees. Once they take some cattle that stampede and wander far away. Never forget or forgive that wrong. Better not see rancher. Go on down river soon, sell few pelts, and buy gun. Mebbe all right."

"No! no! Don't be in a hurry. I'm sure Mr. Mabie won't hold that old grudge against you now, and he's a good man. He will give you gun and powder. Wait and see."

Half an hour later, as he was sitting there, with a rude bandage around his throbbing head, and talking with Little Mink, who had taken a great fancy for the paleface hunter who owned the beautiful gun, Frank heard a startled exclamation from the border of the thicket near by.

"Hello, there, Jerry! Come in and get acquainted!" he cried out, as his eyes fell upon the astonished face of his chum thrust from the scrub.

"Talk to me about surprises! What could equal this? Here, after getting the scare of my life, thinking my chum had been carried off by the redskins, I find him hobnobbing with them in their camp. Sure they ain't dangerous, Frank?" asked Jerry, advancing cautiously, with his gun held ready.

"As mild as an old lady's cup of tea. Wouldn't hurt a fly. Sit down, and I'll tell you all about them," said Frank.

"First, I want to know are you hurt much? I happened on where you fell, and just imagine my alarm when I saw the print of little moccasins. Why, I was sure some frisky red had knocked you over the head with a warclub, and then toted you off to be burned at the stake. I followed as well as I could, bent on rescuing you at the peril of my life, to meet up with a reception like this."

Frank was compelled to laugh at the look of evident disgust that came over the countenance of his comrade.

But when Jerry had heard all his chum knew concerning the little band of wandering Crees, his generous heart was stirred at the thought of their wrongs.

"That greedy half-breed ought to be made to walk the plank, that's what! Just to think of the nerve of him chasing the genuine dyed-in-the-wool chief out into the cold and taking his place! Why, he's a usurper, that's the truth! And look here, Frank, didn't you hear what Mr. Mabie said about a fellow named Pierre La Motte?"

"I must have been away at the time. What did he say?" asked Frank eagerly.

"Why, there was a detachment of the sheriff's posse at the ranch house just before we came, looking for that same fellow. Seems that he's wanted badly for something or other."

"Hurrah! That's just what I was hoping would happen. We can put them wise about Pierre, and they'll go after him. Then, perhaps, as old Running Elk says, when the man with the smooth tongue has gone away forever, the Crees will send and beg their chief to return, and forgive the past. It's all right! I'll bring him here to see you."

But Running Elk had already learned that another stranger was in camp, and even then he was approaching, looking considerably embarrassed, for he feared it might be Mr. Mabie himself.

However, he was soon set at his ease. What Frank had to say about the bad half-breed also gave him new pleasure.

"Not wait long now," he said, nodding his head sagely, while his beady eyes fairly glittered with satisfaction, as in imagination he saw his hated foe being taken away from the Cree village by the much-feared sheriff's posse.



CHAPTER XVIII

AN INVITATION TO COME OUT

"About time those boys were showing up, eh, Bluff?"

"There they come now, Mr. Mabie, and—Jerusalem!"

"What ails you now?" asked the stockman, coming out of the tent.

"They've got an old Indian in tow, as sure as you live!" cried Bluff.

"Where is he? I've just been wanting to get an Indian picture the worst way. Show him to me, please!" And Will came crawling hastily forth, of course clutching his beloved camera in his hand.

"H'm! I guess I know that old buck. It's Running Elk, the chief of the Crees. Something must have happened out of the usual order," said the ranchman.

When he learned what Frank had to say Mr. Mabie proved himself just such a man as the others had believed him to be. He advanced to the Indian, who was standing there in stoical silence, with his blanket thrown over his shoulder, and held out his hand.

"I'm glad to meet you again, Running Elk, and sorry to hear about your trouble. But it will soon be all right. I'll see to it that the authorities learn about Pierre, and they'll get him before long. In the meantime, I'm going to give you a letter to my foreman. You take your little party to the ranch, and they'll see to it that you have plenty to eat until I come back home," he said.

The chief shook his head sadly.

"Bad! bad! Young braves no think when kill runaway steers. Never more can happen after this. Send skins to pay when get um. Glad get meat for squaw and pappoose."

That was the extent of his remarks.

"I guess Injuns ain't got much of a supply of words," remarked Will aside to Bluff.

"But he means all right. I like the old chap's looks. Come along, Frank, and tell us all about it. You look like you've been in a fight. Say! the reds didn't tackle you, did they?" exclaimed Bluff.

"One did; a little chap about hip-high. Ho was out trying to snare a jack-rabbit, when he found me. I'd taken a header down over a root, and was lying in a state where I didn't care whether school kept or not. He led me to their camp, and Jerry found me there later. That's all of it in a nutshell. Now I'm going to have Mr. Mabie wrap up my hand and take a look at my head, for it still rings."

After an examination, the ranchman declared that there was nothing serious the matter.

"It may take a few days for that lump to subside, and these cuts to heal, but you came out of it better than an old fellow like me could have done," he said, and Frank felt relieved.

"What are you going to do with Running Elk?" he asked.

"Send him back to his people with some food. Then he will carry this letter to my foreman, who will look after the party until we get back. After that I'll see to it that Pierre is taken care of and the chief recalled to his own."

"I knew you would. I told the old fellow that, but he was sore afraid that you could never forgive what his young braves had done a year or two ago."

The old Cree chief soon departed, with a grin on his face, and his arms full of bundles. He might have been proud, but there were hungry mouths to feed, and for their sakes he must forget that he should die sooner than beg favors.

Frank felt rather stiff and sore on the following day. He was satisfied to hang about camp, and let his chums do the hunting, for once.

Jerry could not be restrained, for his sporting blood demanded that he keep going all the while. Will was just as eager to do his style of shooting, and even wandered down the river to get a view of the Cree teepee before the family of Running Elk broke camp.

Bluff took a notion to try fishing, and with considerable success. Later in the day Frank also wet a line, and between them they managed to secure a decent mess of fat trout for the whole party.

When Jerry came in he reported that he had had a shot at an elk, but failed to stop his flight. He also declared that he had seen what he believed to be a wolf skulking through the timber.

"Oh, I don't doubt it," said the old stockman, when Frank looked questioningly at him. "The pesky critters like to hang around here, looking for a nice calf that happens to stray away from its mammy's side. Winter and summer, it's all the same to them, so long as we don't get after the pack too hot. Never lose a chance to knock over a wolf, my boy."

"I never mean to," said Jerry, holding up a piece of gray fur.

"That's wolf, all right; and look here, what did you do to him?" demanded Mr. Mabie.

"I was very kind to the scamp, and hung him up in a tree, where the rest of his tribe couldn't get at him to tear his hide to pieces. You see, I had a notion that I'd like to have that skin for a rug, and that later on, perhaps, one of the boys might go out with me and remove it much better than I could," grinned Jerry.