"Are all red men as bad as that?"

"I've just said they wasn't. There's lots of 'em that would make an ordinary white man ashamed of himself. But most of 'em are alike. What I'm driving at is to knock out of your head any idee that this Motoza that you let up on last night thinks any more of you for it. It's t'other way. He despises you fur a coward, and if he ever gits the chance he'll prove what I say is true."

This was depressing information for the youths, but they did not think it seeming to express any doubts of the sentiments of one who was so much better informed than they. They hoped that their own experience would be of a different nature.

Having set out with the intention of reaching the ranch that evening, the guide had made the necessary preparations. He rolled up enough cooked pieces of veal to avert the need of starting another fire and looking for more food. So it came about that when the boys began to consult their watches and hint of it being near meal time, he drew rein at another stream of water, where the ponies were allowed to rest and graze while their masters refreshed themselves. The animals had been pressed as much as was prudent; and Hazletine, looking at the sky and their surroundings, said they were making better progress than he had counted upon.

The weather remained all that could be desired, though he assured them that a heavy rain-storm was impending, and would break within twenty-four hours—an additional incentive for pushing forward.

They were hardly ever out of sight of cattle. Sometimes they were few in numbers, and then they suggested the droves of buffaloes, which, before the animals were extirpated, numbered hundreds of thousands. Once the horsemen approached so close that the cattle were frightened and a partial stampede followed. That Hazletine was among acquaintances was proved by the hails which he received from cowmen, most of whom were so distant that the wonder was how they recognized one another. The boys studied them through their spy-glasses, but, of course, all were strangers to them.

When the afternoon was about half gone they came upon a stream that looked formidable. It was a hundred yards in width, with a roiled and rapid current, which, so far as the eye could determine, might be a score of feet in depth. The prospect of having to swim their ponies across was anything but pleasant, but the boys saw that a well-marked trail led down to the bank where they approached it, showing that it had been crossed and recrossed many times.

"There are places in that stream, which flows into the Platte," said the guide, "where it is a hundred feet deep. It has whirlpools and eddies where the best swimmer couldn't save himself, and even a grizzly bear would drown."

"I hope those places are a good way off," said Jack.

"There's one of 'em right over there to the left."

"How are we going to reach the other side?" asked Fred, in dismay.

"Foller me."

As he spoke the guide spurred his animal into the muddy water, with the boys timidly at his heels and closely watching him.

At no time during the fording did the ponies sink above their knees. It was a surprise and vast relief when they rode out on the other side without having been compelled to draw up their feet during the passage.

"And yet," explained their companion, "if you'd gone three yards to the right or left your critters would have had to swim for their lives, and you'd have had the worst soaking you ever knowed. Now fur the ranch!"



CHAPTER VI.

AT THE RANCH.

The night was well advanced, and the boys, despite their fine physique, felt the effects of the prolonged ride. They had come a goodly distance since morning, the tough little ponies most of the time maintaining a sweeping canter, which placed many miles behind them. Jack and Fred were stiffened, tired and hungry, for no halt was made for supper, it being the intention of the guide to take that meal at the ranch, which he meant to reach before drawing rein.

In the midst of the monotonous gallop of the animals the youths were startled by the sound of a laugh, which suddenly rang out on the still air. It was brief and hearty, such as a man emits who is highly pleased over something said by a companion. There was no moon in the sky, but the starlight was as bright as on the previous evening. Peering ahead in the gloom, nothing was to be seen that explained the singular sound.

"Did you hear that?" asked Jack of Hazletine.

"I s'pose you mean that laugh? Not being deaf, it would have been cur'us if the same hadn't reached my ears."

"What was the meaning of it?"

"It meant, I s'pose, that somebody was pleased."

The lads had to be satisfied with this indefinite answer, but they did not have to wait long for the explanation. Suddenly, from the obscurity ahead, loomed the outlines of a building. It was long, low, and flat, consisting of a single story, like most of the structures in that section of the country.

At the same moment that it was observed, a tiny point of light shone through the gloom, and some one called to them:

"Is that you, Hank?"

"I reckon," was the reply.

At the same moment a tall man, rising from the stool on which he had been seated, came forward. He was smoking a pipe, and the gleam of the fire in the bowl was what had been noted before he became visible.

"These are the younkers we expected," explained Hazletine, "and, if I ain't mistook, they've brought a purty healthy appetite with 'em."

"I've heard of such things afore. Howdy?"

The man, who was known as "Kansas Jim," his full name being James Denham, extended his hand to each boy in turn, and they dismounted.

"I'll look after the animals," he explained. "Go inside, and I reckon Ira can give you some medicine fur that appetite Hank spoke about."

Hazletine led the way to the small covered porch where Ira Garrison, another cattleman, rose to his feet and shook hands with the boys, expressing his pleasure at receiving a visit from them. All three of the arrivals sat down at the front, while Ira passed inside and lighted an oil-lamp. It seemed that he was not absent ten minutes when he called out that the meal was ready—a most welcome announcement to our young friends. The three were quickly seated at the pine table and feasting with keen enjoyment. While they were thus engaged, Ira Garrison sat on a stool a few paces away, smoking his pipe, and was soon joined by Kansas Jim, who brought the saddles and belongings of the ponies that he had turned loose to look after their own wants.

Jack and Fred found their new acquaintances typical cowboys, dressed similarly to Hazletine, though neither wore as much beard as he. Both had long hair, pushed behind their ears, while Jim displayed a luxuriant tawny mustache and goatee, had fine blue eyes, and was thin almost to emaciation. Garrison was short and stockily built, with a powerful physique. His hair, eyes and mustache were as black as coal. He had a fine set of even white teeth, and was so full of jest and humor that it was safe to conclude it was something said by him that had caused Jim to break into laughter.

The structure, as has been said, was a low, flat building, similar to the majority found in that part of the country. It was made wholly of wood, with only a single door at the front, where was a shaded porch, provided with seats, most of which were occupied at times by the cowmen through the day and late into the night.

There were five men employed at the ranch in looking after the immense herd of cattle grazing over the surrounding country and acquiring the plumpness and physical condition which fitted them for the Eastern market. Hank Hazletine was in charge of the four men, and would so remain until the task was finished and the stock disposed of. Barton Coinjock and Morton Blair were absent looking after the animals, whose wanderings in quest of food sometimes took them fifteen or twenty miles from the house. Most of the time, however, the cattle obtained their grazing on the ranch, a half of which belonged to Mr. Dudley, and which extended into the foot-hills of the Wind River Mountains.

It has already been made clear that little was to be apprehended from the hostility of the red men in Wyoming. Rarely is anything of the kind known north of Arizona and New Mexico, and in those Territories it seldom manifests itself since the conquest of the Apaches. There have been fierce collisions of late years between the cowmen and rustlers of the West, and at one time there was considerable bloodshed, but the quarrel seems to have been adjusted.

The reader need hardly be told that in the new States, where grazing has become so important an industry, a perfect system prevails among the cattlemen. Large associations, with their enormous herds of cattle, have their own peculiar brands by which their stock is stamped with their sign of ownership. All these brands are registered, and the cattleman who uses the same, or is found in possession of cattle with the brand of another, is subject to a severe penalty.

Comparatively slight friction, therefore, takes place in those sections. It is a stirring time when the wonderful horsemen are engaged for days in branding the calves that have been added to their herds during the previous months. Sometimes some of the branded cattle wander off while grazing, but if a cattleman from Central Wyoming came upon an animal hundreds of miles north in Montana, bearing his brand, he would promptly cut out the brute from another herd, whose owner would not think of making objection.

It happens now and then that some of the cattle stray off before they are branded. The difficulty of their owners identifying them will be understood. Such cattle are mavericks, and whoever comes upon them loses little time in scorching his brand into their shoulders or hips, after which no one cares to dispute their ownership.

The cowmen whose duty it was to look after the large herd browsing over the thousands of acres composing Bowman's ranch had two annoyances to guard against. It was their duty, as may be said, to keep the animals well in hand. But for this precaution hundreds of them would gradually drift apart until, when the time came for rounding them up, they would be gone beyond recovery. Great loss, therefore, was averted by looking after them.

A more aggravating annoyance, however, brings loss to the owners of the herds. Despite the stringent law, there is always a certain number of desperate men who take perilous chances in stealing cattle and running them off beyond recovery by their owners. This practice is not so prevalent as formerly, for since the brands are registered, and the agents well known at Cheyenne, Helena, and other shipping-points, the thieves find it hard to explain their possession of the carcasses thus marked and escape the arrest and imprisonment provided as a penalty.

One feature of this annoyance comes from the Indians. By far the greater majority of those on the reservations are law-abiding. Under the patient and skilful tutorship of the Government agents they are advancing in civilization, and in a knowledge of the trades and of agriculture. Rarely is there any trouble with them; but it would be strange indeed if, among these people not yet fairly emerged from barbarism, there were not a number sullen because of the change, and who cling to the traditions and practices when the Indian looked upon every white man as his enemy, whom it was his duty to kill upon the first opportunity. The watchfulness of the authorities prevents grave crimes, but no vigilance can keep the dusky thieves from stealthily raiding upon the cattle and property of their white neighbors.

One of the tasks, therefore, of the cowmen of Bowman's ranch was to guard against aboriginal thieves. Since those fellows were sure to have the same trouble as white pilferers in disposing of their stolen stock, they were fond of stampeding the cattle when not under the eyes of their caretakers. About all that resulted from this amusement was extra exasperation and work on the part of the cowmen.

A more serious mischief was that of killing the animals. Having satisfied themselves that they were safe from detection, three or four Indians would entertain themselves for an hour or two in shooting down cattle in pure wantonness, and then making off before they were seen. True, this brought the dusky scamps no gain, but it served as a partial outlet for their enmity of the white man, and that sufficed.

That this peculiar feature of ranch life sometimes assumed grave phases was proved by several narrations made by the cowmen to the boys on their first night at the ranch. Less than a year previous, Kansas Jim shot from his horse an Indian whom he caught killing his cattle; and, not many months previous, the five cowmen, under the leadership of Hank Hazletine, had a running fight for half an afternoon with a dozen Bannocks, engaged in the same sport. At that time Barton Coinjock and Kansas Jim were severely wounded, but three of the marauders were slain, and the mischief nearly ended for a time.

But Jack and Fred were tired, and, though interested in the reminiscences of the cowboys, they longed for rest. The house consisted of four rooms, one being generally reserved for visitors or to serve as a spare apartment. This contained a wooden bedstead and some simple furniture, for luxuries are not popular on cattle-ranches. Surely no bed ever felt more luxurious, however, than the blankets upon which the wearied youths flung themselves, sinking almost immediately into deep, dreamless sleep. There were no wolves or dog Indians to guard against now, and their sense of security was as strong as if in their own beds at home.

The night was well past, when both lads were awakened by the sound of rain pattering upon the roof, which, although they were on the ground floor, was but a brief space above their heads. The storm foretold by Hank Hazletine had come.

There are few sounds more soothing at night than the falling of rain-drops upon the shingles over one's head, but in the present instance the music was anything but welcome to Jack and Fred. It meant that there could be no hunting on the morrow, and probably not for several days. Their time in Wyoming was so limited that they begrudged an hour of enforced idleness.

"But what's the use of kicking?" asked Fred, after they had fully discussed the situation; "it can't be helped."

Nevertheless, they condoled with each other for some time, until, lulled by the gentle patter, they floated off once more into the land of Nod, from which they did not emerge until morning.

The first doleful fact that impressed them was that it was still raining. A peep through the single front window with which their room was provided showed the dull leaden sky, with its infinite reservoir, from which the drops were descending in streams that bid fair to last for days and weeks. The air was chilly, and the wood fire burning in the adjoining room was grateful.

The boys were surprised by a characteristic fact. At some time previous to their emerging from their sleeping-room Jim and Ira had departed to take their turn in looking after the cattle, while Bart and Mort, as they were called, had come in to spend the day and night at the building. When they saw the boys they greeted them pleasantly and conversed for some time. Blair showed himself a man of education, and it came out afterward that he was a college graduate, who, having been threatened with pulmonary trouble, had gone to Arizona and engaged in the cattle business. The experiment wrought a cure, and he was now one of the sturdiest of the five men, not afraid to face the more rigorous climate of the North and to expose himself to all sorts of weather. It was a surprise, indeed, to Jack Dudley and Fred Greenwood, in the course of the day, when the conversation happened to drift to the subject of higher mathematics, to find this cowboy could give them instruction in the most abstruse problems they had ever attempted to solve. Thus, although they would have preferred to be away on a hunt, they found the time less monotonous than anticipated.

"This will let up afore night," said Hank, much to the delight of his young visitors, "and to-morrow will be clear."

"I hope it will last several days," ventured Fred.

"So it will," remarked the cowman, with that air of assurance which showed he was more reliable than the Government in his forecasts of the weather.

Hazletine examined the Winchester repeating-rifles of the boys with great care. He pronounced them excellent weapons, as were the Smith & Wesson revolvers with which they were furnished.

"Your outfit is all right," he said, "but it remains to be seed whether you know how to handle 'em."

"We cannot claim to be skilful," was the modest remark of Jack, "but we have had some experience at home, though when we hunted there it was mostly with shotguns."

"The main thing, younker, is not to git rattled. Now, if you happen to see old Ephraim sailing for you, all you have to do is to make your aim sure and let him have it between the eyes, or just back of the foreleg; or, if you don't have the chance to do that, plug him in the chest, where there's a chance of reaching his heart."

By "old Ephraim" the hunter referred to the grizzly bear, as the boys knew.

"I have heard that it generally takes several shots to kill a grizzly."

"That's 'cause the bullets are not put in the right place. You see, old Ephraim don't take any trouble to give you a better show than he has to, and you must look out fur yourself."

"There are other kinds of bears in Wyoming?"

"Rather—several of 'em. For instance, there's the cinnamon, which, in my 'pinion, is about as bad as Ephraim. I've fit both kinds, and the one that left that big scar down the side of my cheek and chawed a piece out of my thigh was a cinnamon, while I never got a scratch that 'mounted to anything from Ephraim."

"What about the black bear?"

"He's less dangerous than any of 'em. A black bear ain't much more than a big dog. Last fall I killed one with my revolver."

"What other kinds of game are we likely to meet?"

"Wal, it would be hard to name 'em all. There's the deer and antelope, of course, which you find in all parts of the West. Then there's the mountain lion, that is fond of living on beef."

"I never saw one of the creatures."

"Have you ever seen the Eastern panther?" asked Garrison.

"No; though they used to be plentiful in the northern part of the State of New York."

"Well, the mountain lion is the same animal. Our climate and conditions have made some changes in his appearance and habits, but there is no doubt the two are identical."

"There's one kind of game that I wish we could meet," resumed Hazletine, "but they've got so scarce that I haven't seen one fur three years. That's the big-horn sheep."

"He seems to be disappearing from certain sections, like the buffalo from the country," remarked Garrison.

"There's plenty of 'em in the mountains of Arizona and old Mexico, and I've no doubt there's thousands of 'em in the Wind River and other parts of the Rockies, but it's mighty hard to find 'em. Then there's the black wolf."

"Is he fiercer than the gray one?"

"He's ten times worse. Whenever he meets the gray wolf he tears him to smithereens. You never seen a wolf of any kind that wasn't as hungry as you younkers was yesterday."

"He couldn't be any hungrier," said Fred, with a laugh.

"I have knowed one of them critters to foller a steamboat down the upper Missouri fur two days and nights, howling and watching fur a chance to git something to eat."

"The buffaloes have disappeared."

"The right name of the animal is the bison," suggested Garrison; "they have been slaughtered in pure wantonness. It is a crime, the way in which they have been extirpated."

"There are a few of 'em left, deep among the mountains," said Hazletine, "where no one has happened to find 'em, but it won't be long afore they'll all be wiped out. Do you know," he added, indignantly, "that last year our boys found a herd of eighteen buffaloes some miles back in the mountains. Wal, sir, we was that tickled that we made up our minds to watch 'em and see that they wasn't interfered with. We kept track of 'em purty well till their number had growed to twenty-four. Then one afternoon a party of gentlemen hunters, as they called themselves, from the States, stumbled onto 'em. Wal, as true as I'm a settin' here, they s'rounded that herd and never stopped shooting till they killed every one of 'em!"

The cowman was so angry that he smoked savagely at his pipe for a minute in silence. His friends shared his feelings, and Kansas Jim remarked:

"Hank and me hunted two days fur them folks, and if we'd have got the chance to draw bead on 'em not all of 'em would have got home. Why, the rapscallions just shot the whole twenty-four, and left 'em laying on the ground. They didn't even take their hides. If there ever was such a thing as murder that was."

"Yes," assented Garrison; "and although the Government is doing all it can to protect the few in Yellowstone Park, somebody is continually shooting into the herd. The bison will soon be an extinct animal."

"It's too bad, but I don't see that we can help it," observed Hazletine, rousing himself; "there's plenty of other game left, and it'll last longer than any of us, but it don't make the killing of the buffaloes any better. We're likely to find a good many animals that I haven't told you 'bout and that I don't think of."

"How is it, Hank, that you don't keep any dogs?"

"'Cause they're no use. The hunters from the East seem to think they must have a dozen or more sniffing at their heels, but I don't like 'em. We had a big hound a couple of years ago that I took with me on a hunt. The first critter we scared up was a cinnamon bear, and that dog hadn't any more sense than to go straight for him. Wal," grinned Hank, "we haven't had any dog since that time."



CHAPTER VII.

THE FIRST GAME.

It was an ideal day for hunting among the mountains. The sun shone from an unclouded sky, and the air had just enough crispness to make exercise enjoyable. In short, it was a perfect copy of that day which saw the V. W. W. start from Fort Steele on their long ride northward to Bowman's ranch.

The other cowmen would have been glad to join in the hunt, but they could not be spared from duty. Thus it came about that, as in the first instance, Hank Hazletine was the guide and only companion of Jack Dudley and Fred Greenwood on that which was destined to prove the most memorable hunt of their lives.

The three had ridden briskly through a part of the foot-hills until they reached the more elevated portion, when the hunter led the way up a winding trail until, early in the afternoon, they arrived at what may be called the limit of "horse navigation," which is to say their ponies could give them no more help, since the way was too broken for them to climb further.

Accordingly the three dismounted and removed all the trappings of the animals. Hazletine was so familiar with the country that he came to this favored spot without mistake or hesitation. It was a broad, irregular inclosure, in the form of a grassy plateau, where grass grew abundantly, and was walled in on nearly every side by immense rocks and boulders. A tiny stream of icy water wound along one side, disappearing at a corner among the rocks, which were so craggy and eccentric in their formation that a cavity or partial cavern was found, in which the party placed their bridles, saddles and blankets, and which was capable of giving them shelter against the most furiously driving rain-storm.

"Surely we couldn't have found a better spot if we had hunted for a month," said Jack, admiringly surveying their surroundings.

"This is to be our headquarters," explained Hazletine, "during the few days or the week that we spend in hunting here."

"You mean that we are to spend each night in this place?"

The guide nodded his head.

"I don't know of any better arrangement," said Fred; "we can gather enough wood to keep a fire going, and, if rain should set in, shall have as good shelter as if in the house on the ranch."

"That's it; and you mustn't furgit one thing," added Hazletine; "we fetched along just 'nough stuff fur dinner. We haven't anything left fur supper. None of the cattle git this fur into the mountains, so we can't count on them. Therefore, we've the ch'ice atween shooting game or starving to death."

"That's enough to make us all do our best, but we cannot suffer so long as we have you for our companion."

"But you ain't going to have me fur your companion."

The boys stared at their friend in astonishment. He explained:

"There ain't much show fur three persons to find game as long as they stick together. The right way is fur 'em all to part and each keep it up on his own hook. A chap isn't in half the danger of being seen by the deer or sheep, or whatever it may be he's after; and he has the chance, too, to show what stuff he's made of."

"Then you intend to leave us?"

"You've hit it the first time. I'll start out on my own bus'ness, meaning to be back here while the night's young."

Observing significant looks passing between the boys, the man hastened to add:

"Now, don't you folks make the mistake of thinking I'll get your supper fur you, fur I don't mean to do nothing of the kind. I don't intend to do any hunting, but to git away from you so as to let you have the chance. I don't say that if a big horn or a antelope or buck walks up in front of me and asks me to take a shy at him that I won't pop him over, though some folks that I know wouldn't do the same if the buck happened to be a two-legged one; but such things don't often happen; and, if you don't fetch in any game, them appetites of your'n are likely to bother you as much as they did t'other day when we was riding from the fort."

"Do you wish Fred and me to part company?"

Hank's eyes twinkled and a quizzical expression lit up that part of his countenance which was visible.

"'Twouldn't be safe."

"Why not?"

"You'd each take the other fur a wild donkey and plug him afore you found out the mistake, which the same wouldn't be such a mistake after all."

The boys could well afford to laugh at the pleasantry of the man who, it was evident, felt a partiality for them. He added, more seriously:

"You'd have more show to shoot game if you parted, but I'd not advise you to do it till after you've hunted for some days together. It's mighty easy for younkers like you to git lost in these mountains. You must keep your bearings, so it won't be any trouble fur you to find your way back to this spot when it's dark. If you happen to catch sight of any game, try to not let it see you till you git a fair shot at it; and there ain't much good in wounding a critter in these parts, fur it's sure to git away from you."

After some further instructions, Hank bade his young friends good-by and left them. He strode off in the direction of the trail over which they had come to reach this interesting spot in the mountains, and disappeared without once looking back to see what they were doing.

It was odd thus to be left alone in this wild region, and the chums looked in each other's face with smiles. It certainly was a curious experience to be set down in one of the greatest mountain spurs of the West, and to be told that now they must take care of themselves. It was like being cast into deep water and ordered to choose between swimming and drowning.

"It's just as well," said Jack, "or he wouldn't have done it. Surely the V. W. W. ought to be able to take care of ourselves, with our repeaters and pistols. There's nothing to be feared from wild animals, or he would have warned us."

"It strikes me that the most important thing to do is to keep our bearings, for if we should happen to lose our way it would go hard with us."

"We took care to bring spy-glasses, as well as everything else that we thought we were likely to need, but forgot about a compass, which may be worth all the rest."

"Well, we must be careful not to stray too far until we become familiar with the country. Let's not delay our start."

The plateau where their ponies were cropping the grass was several acres in extent, nearly half of it sloping abruptly; but the grass was abundant enough to furnish the animals with all they could need, no matter how long they stayed, since it had plenty of opportunity to renew itself.

Side by side the boys moved across the space, the ponies not raising their heads to look at them, as they passed near. Instead of following the course taken by their guide they bore to the right, but at the same time proceeded nearly westward, which led them deeper into the mountains. Remembering the caution of their friend they studied the landmarks around them, in the hope of not losing their way when it should become time to return to camp.

When fairly clear of the plateau, where they must have been at a considerable elevation above the sea, they found the way so rough that travelling became a task. There was nothing in the nature of a path or trail to follow, and they were compelled to pass around boulders and rocks, sometimes turning back and retracing their steps, and making long detours, so as to flank impassable chasms. All this tended to confuse their knowledge of the points of the compass, but they did not forget to note everything that could serve as a guide, and were confident of finding their way whenever it should become necessary to return.

Most of the time Jack Dudley was in the lead, for it was not easy to walk beside each other. He was perhaps a half-dozen paces in advance of Fred, when he abruptly stopped with an exclamation of affright.

"What is it?" asked his friend, hardly less startled.

"Look at that!"

He pointed downward, almost at his feet. Still unaware of what he meant, Fred stepped guardedly forward to his side.

There was good cause, indeed, for the alarm of the elder, for he had checked himself on the edge of a ravine or canyon fully a thousand feet deep. One step further and he would have dropped into eternity.

The peculiar formation of the canyon accounted for this peril. The chasm was barely a dozen feet wide, but the other side was depressed, so that it was not noticed by the youth until on the edge of the danger. The walls were of solid rock, showing the numerous strata of sandstone and other formations, worn so unevenly that it looked possible for a person to use them as stairs in climbing the sides. Pausing on the edge and peering cautiously down the dizzy steep, the youths could see a stream of water, winding its course far down at the bottom, where the roughness of its bed churned it into foam, and gave it the appearance of a white ribbon that had been strung along the course. The murmur was so soft and faint that at times they were not sure they heard it, and when it reached their ears the voice of the distant ocean was suggested.

A striking feature of this phenomenon was the exceeding narrowness of the canyon. It has been stated that directly opposite to where the boys had halted it was scarcely a dozen feet wide, and there were places in sight with the width still less, though most of it was greater. The ages that it had taken this stream to erode such a bed for itself was beyond imagination.

"Jack," said his companion, with that elasticity of spirits natural to one of his years, "if you had pitched down there, how in the world could I have pulled you up to the top again?"

"Why would you wish to do that?"

"Well, you would have been pretty well bruised and would have needed help."

"Possibly; but I wonder whether there are many such pit-holes in this part of the world. It resembles the fissures in the mountains of ice which I have read that the Arctic explorers sometimes find."

However, since the youths were on one side of the canyon, naturally they were seized with the belief that it was necessary immediately to place themselves on the other side. Why it was so they would have found hard to explain, but they were unanimous on the point; and, since there was but the single method of crossing the chasm, they set out to find it.

"It looks narrower over there to the left," said Jack, turning in that direction.

He did not have to go far when he paused, where the width was barely six feet—not enough to afford much of a leap for sturdy lads of their years.

"That's easy," added Jack, measuring it with his eye.

"You must remember one thing, Jack. There's something in the air of this part of the world which makes a mile look no more than a few hundred yards. Suppose that that other bank is fifty feet off!"

It was an alarming thought, and Jack recoiled as if again on the edge of the brink. But he was quick to see the absurdity of the idea.

"If that is so, then the canyon must be several miles deep. But we would better make sure."

It was easy to do this. Hunting around until a chip from one of the boulders was found, Jack tossed it across the abyss. It fell as he expected, proving that, wonderfully deceptive as is the atmosphere of the West, it cannot mislead in instances like that which confronted them.

"That makes it right. I am not afraid to make the leap; are you?"

"Not a bit; but wait."

Near them lay a stone, so large that it required their united strength to move it. By hard work they rolled it to the edge of the canyon and tumbled it over, carefully watching its descent. A curious thing followed. At first it shot straight downward for a hundred feet, when it impinged against a projecting point of the mountain wall, knocked the fragments in every direction, as if it were a ball fired from a thousand-pounder, and bounded against the opposite side, further down, scattering fragments again. By this time it had achieved an almost inconceivable momentum, and was shooting downward at a terrific rate.

In the depths of this narrow canyon, where the sunlight never penetrated for more than a few minutes at a time, it was always twilight. At the bottom it was almost dark, so that the stream would hardly have been visible but for its yeasty foam. At some point near the base, when the flinty stone was speeding forward like a meteor, it abraded a harder portion than before. Instantly a stream of fire shot out, such as sometimes flashes from a murky cloud in the sky, and, as if it were an echo of the impact, the splash and thunderous thump were heard by the boys at the top.

It was a tempting theme for the imagination, but they were too practical to linger. Having agreed that the canyon could be readily jumped, they did not hesitate. Running a few steps, Jack Dudley cleared the passage and landed on the other side, with several feet to spare. He did not take the trouble to toss his rifle in advance, but kept it in his hand.

"I had a queer feeling," he said, as Fred joined him, "when I was right over the middle of the canyon, and knew, if I had made any miscalculation, I should never stop until pretty well down toward the centre of the earth."

"It doesn't take long to do a deal of thinking at such time, but what bothered me was whether I was going to make as good a jump as you. I believe I beat you by two or three inches."

"You wouldn't have done it if I had tried. But, Fred, since we are on this side of that split in the mountain, we have got to jump it again to get back to camp."

"And we must manage to do it before dark, for it isn't safe to take chances where there is so much variance in the width."

"Fact of it is," remarked Jack, expressing that which had been clear to both from the first, "there was no need of our jumping it at all. But we are here, and must make the best of it. It's time we found some game."

And Jack looked sharply around, as if he expected to see a fat deer or big horn step forward and sacrifice himself for their good.

But they were more fortunate than they were warranted in expecting. While surveying the rocks and heights which seemed to wall them in, Fred exclaimed:

"There's our game!"

He pointed to a cliff fully two hundred yards distant, and of half that height. On this projecting ledge stood a noble buck, with antlers and head raised, while he seemed to be gazing over the wild expanse of country below him. They knew he was a fine animal, though the distance made him appear diminutive.



"I wonder if he sees us?" said Jack in a whisper, as if afraid of being overheard.

"If he does, he knows we are too far off to harm him."

The next instant the boys had unslung their glasses and leveled them at the fellow, who formed a striking picture, as he stood out in bold relief, with his spreading antlers, his fine head, and his brown, sinewy limbs. The next remark by Jack may not have been romantic, but it was characteristic:

"What a fine meal he will make for us!"

"Provided we can secure him. We must get a good deal nearer."

"Our rifles will carry a bullet that far."

"No doubt; but if we hit him he would be only slightly wounded and would make off. We must go closer."

This necessity was self-evident, but the task was certain to be a difficult one. As they approached the animal they were likely to expose themselves to his keen gaze, when he would disappear on the instant.

"Remember what Hank said. There is twice the chance for one that there is for two. I'll stay here, Fred, while you go on. If I see him move I'll try it, and you must do the same. Between us, we may bring him down."

The plan was acted upon. It was agreed that Fred should steal as near to the buck as possible, in the hope of securing him, while Jack should hold himself in readiness to make a shot, with precious little prospect of success.

If the game would maintain his position it looked as if there was a good prospect of the younger lad getting within shooting distance, for the way was so rugged, and offered so many opportunities for screening his approach, that he did not believe he would be detected if he used proper care. Meanwhile Jack took position behind the nearest boulder, where he could keep an eye on the animal and it was impossible for the latter to see him.

Fred was lost to sight almost immediately. He grew so anxious as the interval decreased that he trembled, and it was hard to fight off an attack of what is called "buck fever," and which is fatal to the best hunter; but by and by his nerves settled, and he became as cool and self-possessed as Hank Hazletine himself would have been under the circumstances.

It seemed improbable that the buck would wait where he was, even if not alarmed, for the time necessary to afford a good shot for his enemy. It was some whim that had led him out upon the top of the towering bluff, where he was in view of the young hunters. It is not to be supposed that his kind appreciate such a thing as beauty in a landscape or scene spread before them, and yet the action of the buck almost indicated something of that nature; for he stood motionless, minute after minute, as if absorbed, and suggesting a statue carved from the rock itself.

Foot by foot Fred Greenwood stole forward, crouching behind boulders, creeping beside immense rocks which shut him from the gaze of the watchful animal, until with a rapidly beating heart he whispered:

"I'm near enough to try a shot."

He was making ready, when he observed a well-screened point a few rods in advance, which impressed him as the right place. Once there, he could ask no better opportunity to test his skill. Was it safe to wait a minute or two longer? Yes, he would make the attempt.

With infinite care, and holding his nerves in superb control, he worked his way to the spot without alarming the buck.



CHAPTER VIII.

LOOK BEFORE YOU LEAP.

Crouching behind the friendly boulder, Fred Greenwood rested the barrel of his Winchester upon it and took careful aim at the buck, which seemed scarcely to have moved from the moment he was seen by the youths. That he maintained his pose thus long was certainly remarkable, and the fact was due to a cause suspected by neither of the boys.

That the antelope has the bump of curiosity developed to a most amazing degree is well known. It is this peculiarity which has proved fatal to the animals in numberless instances. The curiosity of the cervus species, while much less, sometimes manifests itself in an extraordinary fashion. Fred Greenwood managed his approach with so much skill that he was not noticed; but his comrade, further away, was seen by the vigilant animal, when Jack, becoming impatient over the delay, began the attempt to follow him. The sight of the young hunter startled the buck. He was on the point of whirling about and making off, but waited to learn something more definite. The caution of Jack rendered this difficult, and it was because of the animal's hesitation that Fred succeeded in reaching the spot from which to try a shot.

The lad sighted at the front of the game and his finger was pressing the trigger, when, perhaps because of a sudden sight of Jack, the buck turned about to flee. It was at this juncture that Fred fired.

The result was better than he expected. It is almost impossible to kill a deer instantly, instances being known of one running a number of rods with a bullet through his heart; but in this instance the buck, gathering his forelegs under him, as if to leap a high obstruction, bounded straight up in air and dropped back so close to the edge of the cliff that he toppled over and came tumbling downward like a log of wood.

The point where he fell was some distance away and out of sight of the young hunter, who, with a delighted exclamation, rose to his feet and began scrambling toward his prize. But for his excitement Fred would have noted a singular thing. When the report of his rifle rang out in the stillness, the echo from the face of the cliff sounded as sharp and loud as the crack of his own weapon. The explanation of this speedily became manifest.

Although the way was rough, the distance was so short that it took Fred only a brief time to reach the inanimate body of the buck.

"Hank couldn't have beaten that shot himself! I must have driven the bullet through his heart, which I shouldn't have done if he hadn't started to flee at the instant I pulled trigger——"

At that moment an Indian, rifle in hand, stepped into view from among the rocks, and with a grin on his face came toward the youth. Fred was not dreaming of anything of the kind, and looked at the red man in astonishment.

"Eh! howdy, brother? That my buck," said the Indian, with his painted face still bisected by a tremendous smile.

The lad flared up on the instant.

"How do you make that out? I just shot him."

"No; me shoot him—he mine."

Fred's gorge continued to rise.

"You are not speaking the truth. I fired at him a few minutes ago and saw him spring in air and fall over the cliff."

"Where you hit him?"

Ready to prove the truth of his own words, the youth stooped over the carcass, which was lying on its left side. A crimson orifice was seen just back of the foreleg, which showed where the tiny messenger of death had entered.

"That's where I struck him! What have you to say to that?"

"I shoot at the same time as brother. That where my bullet go in. Dere where it come out."

Reflection convinced Fred of the unpleasant fact that this Indian was speaking the truth. The relative position of the lad and the dead buck had been such that it was impossible for his bullet to take the course of the one that had slain the animal. The decisive shot, therefore, was not his.

"But I know mine struck him somewhere," was Fred's desperate exclamation; "could it have taken the same course as yours?"

The tantalizing smile came back to the face of the red man, who shook his head.

"My brother's bullet strike dere—hurt antler bad."

The Indian thrust the toe of his moccasin against the buck's antlers. It was plain that one of the prongs had been chipped off, as if by the impact of a glancing bullet. Fred could no longer deny the mortifying fact that his shot had no more to do with the death of the animal than if it had been a pebble tossed up the cliff by hand.

The discovery did not add to his temper, and he was in an unreasonable mood.

"You hadn't any business to fire at the buck when I did! I had picked him out for my game and it was a mean act on your part. We both struck him, and I shall claim one-half of him, for I'm hungry, and it will soon be supper-time."

A dangerous light shone in the black eyes of the Indian. Evidently he had no liking for the race of the young man, and his resentment was roused by his words and manner.

"He mine; me take him; you thief!"

It occurred to Fred Greenwood at this moment that it would be unwise as well as perilous to quarrel with this denizen of the wilderness. He was in middle life, active, powerful, wiry and unscrupulous. The youth was no match for him in a personal encounter; besides which he noticed that the fellow carried a Winchester like his own, not to mention the formidable knife at his waist.

Still the lad was too proud to yield the point without protest. Besides, he was growing anxious about that supper which hung suspended in the balance.

"It's only fair that you should give me a part of the body; you can't eat a tenth part of it. You must divide."

"He mine—me take all—white dog have none—me kill him."

"You will, eh? I shall have something to say about that."

It was Jack Dudley who uttered these words as he strode into view from the direction taken a few minutes before by his comrade.

The Indian had detected the approach of Jack before he spoke and before Fred knew of his coming. He raised his head like a flash, and the dark, threatening expression vanished, succeeded by the grin that was there when he first appeared to the younger lad.

"Howdy, brother?" he said, extending his hand, which was taken rather gingerly by the surprised youth, who recognized him as Motoza, the vagrant Sioux, with whom he had had the singular experience some nights before, when encamped in the grove on the prairie.

"Why, I didn't suspect it was you," added Jack, hardly knowing how to address him.

Motoza would have lacked ordinary perception had he failed to see that the boys were friends. What impulse led him to do what he did it would be hard to explain, but without making any response to the remark of Jack he drew his knife, stooped over the carcass, and dextrously cut two large pieces from the haunches. Straightening up, he handed one to Jack and the other to Fred, with the words:

"Take, brothers."

"Thank you very much," replied Fred, accepting the "peace offering," while his friend made similar acknowledgment.

"Brothers want more?"

"That is plenty. We are obliged, and hope you will pardon our hasty words."

With the chronic grin on his painted face Motoza stood silent, as if the business was closed between them.

"That gives us our supper, Fred, and we may as well go back to camp. Good-by, Motoza."

The Sioux slightly nodded, but did not speak. Each boy, carrying his food, turned his back upon him and moved away in the direction of the camp. When they had gone a slight distance, Jack looked back and saw the Indian bent over the carcass of the buck and busy with his knife in securing a meal for himself. A few minutes later the parties were out of sight of each other.

At the first water they reached the lads carefully washed and dressed the venison and resumed their return to camp.

"What do you make of it, Jack?" asked Fred.

"I don't know enough about Indians to judge them correctly, but I think their nature must be similar to our own. Motoza formed a respect for me because of the manner in which I handled him the other night."

"That is my belief; and it is not only respect, but friendship. He likes you, and will never do you harm."

"What about you?"

"I am not so clear there. He and I were quarrelling when you came up. I thought it was I who killed the buck, but he proved it was himself, and that I had no claim to him. But I had set my heart on making a supper off venison to-night, and did not like the thought of giving it up. He was ugly, and if you hadn't come up just when you did there would have been trouble, with the chances against me."

"It was a mistake on your part."

"I fear it was. It may be, however, that Motoza feels better disposed toward me since he has learned we are friends."

"That is my belief. But it is rather curious that we should run across him again, so many miles from the spot where we last met; but, Fred, we must keep our bearings."

They were in a wild section of the mountains, which they had not seen before, but by carefully noting the position of the sun in the sky and observing a towering, snow-covered peak that had been fixed upon as a landmark, they agreed as to the right direction. They were confirmed in their belief shortly after by coming to the edge of the canyon which they had leaped on their outward trip; but the width was fully twenty feet, with no diminishing, so far as they could see, to the right or left.

"I hardly think it will do to make the venture here," remarked Jack, with a shake of his head.

"No; for not only is it too wide, but the other side is several feet higher than this."

They cautiously approached the edge and peered down into the frightful depth. There was the same foamy stream, apparently a half-mile below, clashing over the rocky bottom, and sending up the faint roar that impressed them when the canyon was first seen. It was, in short, a reproduction on a reduced scale of the magnificent Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, which is a source of admiring wonder to thousands of tourists.

Something away down in the bottom caught the attention of Fred, and, at his suggestion, they laid aside their rifles and venison and crept forward on their faces until their heads projected over the edge of the dizzying depth.

"Do you see him?" asked Fred.

"Yes; who would have thought of such a thing?"

At many points in the yeasty foam black masses of rocks rose so high above the roaring stream that the water whirled and eddyed around them. It was mostly these obstructions that kept the current in a state of turmoil, and made it show distinctly in the twilight gloom of the canyon. On one of the dripping rocks was a man, standing so like a statue that in the indistinct light Fred Greenwood took him for some fantastic formation of stone, worn by the eroding action of the angry waters, but the suggestion of a living person was so striking that the two called their spy-glasses into use.

The result was astounding. Instead of being an Indian, as they had believed at first, it was a white man. Furthermore, the instruments proved beyond question that he was their old friend, Hank Hazletine.

"What in the name of wonder is he doing down there?" exclaimed the amazed Jack.

"Standing on a rock," was the reply. "He finds some amusement in that, or he wouldn't do it."

"He must have entered at the mouth of the canyon, which cannot be far off."

"That may be so. The sides are so broken and rough that he could use them for stairs in going down or coming up."

"Whew!" exclaimed Jack, with a shudder; "the thought scares me. I wouldn't undertake it for the world! Suppose, when you had picked your steps half-way down, you couldn't find a place to rest your hands or feet; or, in climbing up, you should be stopped within a yard or two of the top?"

"It would be the end of the chapter for us; but Hank knows the country so well that he is in no danger of making such a mistake; but none for us."

In the hope of attracting the notice of their friend the boys shouted to him, but the roar of the waters was in the ears of the hunter, who would not have heard the boom of a cannon fired on the cliffs above. He did not look up or give any heed to their hail. Fred thought of throwing down a piece of rock, but it was too dangerous. It was liable to be so deflected from its course as to kill the unsuspicious hunter, who had assumed great risk as it was.

"Do you see that?" asked Jack.

The question was caused by the action of Hank, who made a leap that carried him to the top of the boulder nearest him. Then he sprang to a second and a third, when, to the astonishment of the watchers, he disappeared.

The reason was apparent. After his last leap he had passed under a projecting ledge, from which, of course, he would emerge whenever he chose to do so. But, though the boys watched for a considerable time, he did not appear; and, realizing that the afternoon was drawing to a close, they rose to their feet, with the purpose of pushing on to camp.

But to do that they must find a place where the canyon could be crossed, and they set out on their hunt, which proved less difficult than was anticipated. Not far off a portion of the rocks on their side projected like a tongue so far over the ravine that it was barely two yards from its extremity to the other bank. Moreover, the sides of the canyon were on a level, so that a more favorable spot for crossing could not have been desired.

An examination of this formation showed that twenty feet below them the canyon was as wide as at the point from which they had watched their friend. The ledge, therefore, arched over, and was in the nature of a partial bridge, whose thickness would have sustained a great many tons.

They peered downward in quest of Hank, but the gorge had taken an abrupt turn since they saw him and he was not in sight.

The task before them seemed so simple that the two gave it scarcely a thought, but it brought them an experience which, in some respects, was the most terrifying of their lives.

While the banks were substantially on the same level, the opposite one was fringed with a species of stunted bush, two or three feet high, quite dense, and bearing a species of red berry such as is found on the fragrant wintergreen. Hazletine had cautioned the lads against eating any vegetable whatever in this section, since many are violently poisonous and have caused the death of more than one thoughtless tenderfoot.

Fred Greenwood made ready for the first jump. As in the former instance, the distance was so slight that it was not necessary to toss any of their impedimenta in advance of their own passage. It was easy to jump with the Winchester in one hand and the goodly piece of meat in the other. Since Fred had beaten his friend some time before, Jack quietly resolved to turn the tables by doing his best, and he was confident of far surpassing him, especially as Fred had no suspicion of his intention.

"Go ahead," said Jack; "night isn't far off, and it will be dark by the time we reach camp."

Fred took only a couple of paces for a start, when he bounded across the chasm with the ease of a chamois. Jack had sauntered a rod back, as if with no special purpose in mind, when his object was to secure the impetus that would land him far in advance of his comrade. Standing thus, he complacently watched Fred, as his body rose in air, gracefully curved over, and landed at a safe distance beyond the edge of the canyon.

It was while Jack Dudley was standing thus that he fancied he saw a disturbance in the bushes where Fred was about to alight. It was so slight that he did not think it meant anything; and, without noticing it further, he started on a series of quick, short steps, which were to give him the necessary momentum to win the victory over his friend. At that instant Fred landed and emitted a cry of terror and warning.

"Look out, Jack! Don't jump! Stop! stop!"

But, though Jack heard the cry, it was too late to heed it. He was so near the edge of the canyon that had he checked himself he would have gone spinning to death down the abyss. The leap must be made, and, gathering his muscles, he rose in the air, with his legs gathered under him, and with the certainty that the jump would far surpass the one that he had just witnessed.

In that critical moment, when his body rose and seemed suspended over the gorge, Jack's attention was fixed upon the strange actions of Fred. The instant he landed he darted to one side, and with his rifle struck at something in the bushes which Jack could not see. As he did so he recoiled, and was in the act of advancing and striking again, when Jack landed upon the ground beyond.

As he did so he heard a vicious, locust-like whir, whose meaning he recognized. An immense rattlesnake was in the bushes, and Fred had descended almost upon it. But for the tremendous effort of Jack he would have dropped squarely upon the velvety body, with consequences too frightful to be thought of; but his great leap carried him over it, while the attack of Fred upon the reptile, in the effort to save his companion, diverted the attention of the rattlesnake for an instant.

Jack saw the flat, pitted head, the gleaming coil, the distended jaws, while the slightly elevated tail vibrated so rapidly with the warning which, once heard, can never be forgotten, that it looked hazy and mist-like. Before Fred, at imminent risk to himself, could bring down his clubbed gun with crushing force, Jack felt a sharp sting in his ankle and called out, in the extremity of terror:

"I'm bitten!"

He was not only terrified but angered, and whirling about, he brought down his gun with spiteful violence on the writhing body. The reptile struck again, but it was already wounded to that extent that its blow was erratic, and, though it came near reaching the hand of Jack, it missed by a safe margin.



CHAPTER IX.

NIGHT IN THE MOUNTAINS.

One of the singular facts connected with the crotalus species is the ease with which it is killed. The writer once ended the career of a huge specimen with a single blow of a whip-lash. The first impact of Fred Greenwood's rifle-barrel upon the hideous reptile coiled in the scrub bushes inflicted a fatal wound, though the serpent continued blindly striking for a minute or two longer, and responded viciously to the attack of the scared and angry Jack Dudley, who struck it several times after it had ceased to struggle and all danger was past. A person's first impulse, after being bitten by a snake, is to kill it, after which he looks after the wound he may have received.

But Fred had heard the dreadful exclamation of his comrade and caught him by his arm as he was about to bring down his last blow upon the reptile.

"O Jack, are you sure he bit you?" he asked in a tremulous voice.

"Yes; I felt the sting in my left ankle, like the prick of a needle."

Dropping upon the ground, he hastily unfastened and turned down his legging. There, sure enough, was a tiny red spot, with a single drop of blood oozing from it.

"The rattlesnake has two fangs," said Fred; "but there is only one wound here."

"It wasn't a direct blow, I suppose," said the white-faced Jack, who had good reason to be terrified over the occurrence, for the rattlesnake, although ranking below the cobra in the virulence of its venom, is the most deadly serpent in America, and the veteran hunter fears it more than the most savage of wild animals.

Fred stooped down and examined the wound closely. A thrilling suspicion was becoming certainty in his mind.

"When did you feel that bite?" he asked.

"At the moment I landed on my feet. What a dreadful poison it is! I can feel it all through my body; and don't you see that my ankle has begun to swell?"

Fred continued to study the wound, pressing his finger around it and bending close to the limb. Had the hurt been caused by the fang of a serpent he would have tried to suck out the venom. Suddenly he looked up with glowing face.

"Now, Jack, my dear fellow, don't be frightened; you haven't been bitten at all."

"What do you mean?"

"At the moment you landed on your feet I was beating the life out of the snake, and he was giving his whole attention to me. He did not try to bite you till you turned about and began striking at him."

"But what made that wound?" asked Jack.

"I suspect the cause."

He drew up the legging and examined the part that covered the spot in the ankle which had received the blow.

"There! I knew it! That's what did it!"

He had plucked out a small, needle-pointed thorn. The bushes abounded with similar prongs, one of which had been torn off and pierced the legging of Jack when he was crashing through the tops of the bushes.

"Sure there isn't any mistake about that?" asked the youth, feeling as if a mountain were lifted from his shoulders.

"There can't be."

"Wait a minute!"

With one bound the happy fellow came to his feet, and throwing his arms about his comrade, hugged him into temporary breathlessness.

"Thank the Lord! Richard's himself again! The V. W. W. are born to good fortune."

And joining hands, the two danced with delight. Many in the situation of Fred Greenwood would have laughed at Jack and "guyed" him over his blunder, but the incident was too dreadful and the terror of his friend too intense for Fred to wish to amuse himself at his expense. However, he could not help indulging just a trifle. Suddenly pausing in his antics he looked down at the feet of Jack.

"I suppose in a few minutes your ankle will be so swelled that the buckles will fly off the legging. By this time, too, you must feel the poison in your head."

By way of answer, Jack, who, like Fred, had laid aside his Winchester and venison, seized his friend and tried to lay him on his back. They had had many a wrestling bout at home and there was little difference in their skill. Fred was always ready for a test, and he responded with such vigor that before Jack suspected he received an unquestioned fall, since both shoulders and hips were on the ground at the same time, with his conqueror holding him motionless.

"It was hardly fair," remarked Fred, allowing him to rise to his feet.

"Why not?" asked Jack, also coming up.

"The venom of the rattlesnake so weakened you that you are not yourself."

"I'll show you whether I am or not!"

At it they went again, and this time Jack was the victor, after which they brushed off their clothing and agreed to leave the deciding bout for a more convenient season. Night was rapidly closing in.

"That exercise has added to my appetite," remarked Jack, as they gathered up their belongings and moved off.

"It would have done the same for me, if the thing were possible."

Mindful of the danger of going astray, they carefully studied the landmarks, so far as they could see them. Their main reliance was the lofty peak that was visible for so great a distance, but with that help they saw it growing dark, while they were in a region totally strange to them.

"My gracious!" said Fred, as they came to a halt; "in the face of all that Hank told us, we have lost our way!"

"It has that look," replied Jack, removing his hat and drawing his handkerchief across his moist forehead; "but I don't see that it is such a serious thing, after all. We can spend the night here as well as anywhere."

"What will Hank think, when he goes to camp to meet us?"

"I reckon he'll not be disappointed; besides, we can't be far from the place, and can look it up to-morrow."

"I don't suppose it will hurt us to build a fire among these rocks and spend the night; but the air is pretty cool and we shall miss our blankets."

"Old hunters like ourselves must become used to such things," complacently observed Jack, who began preparations at the same moment for carrying out his own proposal. It was no trouble to find enough brush and wood to serve them, and they had brought such a goodly supply of matches from the ranch in their rubber safes that they soon had a vigorous fire going, over which they broiled their venison.

The meal of itself would not have been enjoyable at their home, for it was too "new," lacking a certain tenderness that forms one of its chief attractions. Besides, it was unavoidably scorched in the preparation; but the mixed pepper and salt sprinkled over it improved the flavor. But the great thing was their insatiate appetites, for it is a homely truth that there is no sauce like hunger. So it came about that they not only made a nourishing meal, but had enough left to serve them in the morning.

It was fully dark when the repast was finished. The fire had been started against the face of a boulder, and only a small quantity of wood remained—not sufficient to last half through the night. With the going down of the sun the air became colder. It seemed at times as if a breath of wind from the snowy peaks reached them, and it caused an involuntary shiver. The prospect of remaining where they were through the dismal hours of darkness was anything but cheering.

"Jack," suddenly said Fred in a guarded undertone, "there's some wild animal near us."

"How can you know that?"

"I heard him moving about."

"In what direction?"

"Just beyond the ridge there. Hark! Didn't you hear it?"

"You are right," whispered Jack; "let's find out what it is."

Gun in hand, they moved stealthily up the slight ridge near by. It was only a few feet in height. Their experience had taught them that danger was likely to break upon them at any time, and they did not mean to be caught unprepared. Neither spoke as they cautiously climbed the ridge, like a couple of Indian scouts on the alert for the first appearance of peril.

But they reached the crest of the slight elevation without having heard anything more of that which had alarmed them. The next moment, however, both caught the dim outlines of a large animal moving slowly from them. Before they were certain of its identity the creature neighed, as if frightened by the stealthy approach of the youths.

"It's a horse!" exclaimed Fred, who, suspecting the whole truth, moved over the ridge and called, in a coaxing voice:

"Dick! Come here, Dick!"

The animal stopped, looked inquiringly around, and then came forward with a pleased whinny. He was Fred's pony, and, brief as their acquaintance had been, recognized his voice. Fred stroked his nose and patted his neck, and the horse showed his pleasure at receiving the endearments.

When the youths made their halt and cooked their supper they were on the edge of the grassy plateau for which they were hunting, and whose features they would have been quick to recognize were the sun shining. Soon after, Jack's pony came out of the gloom as if to claim attention, and he received it.

"We are more fortunate than I dared hope," said Jack; "here we are at home, after all. I wonder whether Hank is ahead of us?"

This was unlikely, since, if he had reached the spot fixed upon as their headquarters, he would have kindled a fire, whereas it was dark in every direction. The partial cavern was on the other side of the plateau, and the boys walked rapidly to it, the route being clear, now that they had located themselves.

They appreciated the wisdom of Hank, who had made them help gather enough firewood to last through the night. He said (what proved to be the fact) that they were not likely to return till late, when it would be hard to collect the right kind of fuel.

In a brief while a second fire was under way. It was started in front of the cavern, which was of so slight extent that it received and held much of the warmth. Seated within the opening, with their heavy blankets wrapped about them, the boys were thoroughly comfortable. They had met with enough stirring adventure and had had sufficient rough experience to make the rest highly acceptable. They naturally wondered when nine o'clock passed without bringing Hank Hazletine.

"Maybe he has lost his way in the canyon," suggested Fred, giving expression to a fancy which was not serious.

"You mean that he has forgotten where the stairs lead up to the top?"

"I guess that's what I mean, though I never thought of it before. If that is the fact, he may have to pick his way for two or three hundred miles to the mouth of the canyon and then walk back to us."

"That will delay his arrival."

"Yes. He can hardly be expected before morning."

"Let me see," said Jack, becoming more serious; "Hank warned us that no matter where we went into camp, we must keep one person on duty as sentinel."

"Suppose we are separated, and there is only one of us in camp?"

"Then, I presume, he must sit up and watch over himself. But what's the use of one of us keeping guard here?"

"Why not?"

"We are in this cavern-like arrangement, where no one can come upon us from the rear, while the fire will ward off danger from the front."

"Suppose that danger comes in the form of an Indian; what would he care for half a dozen fires?"

"But there are no unfriendly Indians in these parts."

"You are thinking of Motoza. We have agreed that he is friendly, but sometimes I suspect we are making a mistake about him."

The boys would have been glad to convince themselves that it was safe to dispense with guard duty, for a night of undisturbed rest was exceedingly tempting, but no one who starts out with the set purpose of deceiving himself can do so. The result of it all was that the two decided that they must stand guard between them until the sun rose.

On such occasions the sentinel whose turn comes first has the preferable task, since every one will admit that it is easier to keep awake before midnight than afterward. The division was made more equitable by arranging that Jack Dudley should serve until two o'clock, and Fred Greenwood for the remainder of the morning. Before the hour of ten the younger lay down on the flinty floor, with his heavy blanket gathered around him, and sank into slumber. They had matched pennies for the first turn, else the elder would not have claimed it.

Jack found his duty similar in many respects to that of his first night on the prairie, but the surroundings and circumstances were in wide contrast. In the former instance they had the companionship of the cowman and veteran hunter, while now they could not know whether he was within a half-dozen miles of them. Jack, however, did not believe that anything in the nature of danger impended, and that to a great extent he was taking upon himself an unnecessary hardship.

So far as he could judge, the only possible thing to fear was wild animals. There were always some of them prowling through this region, but at that season of the year the wolves and other brutes were not pressed by hunger, and no matter how fierce the creature, he would not attempt to pass the mouth of the cavern so long as the fire was burning. Jack flung a number of sticks on the blaze and then passed outside, where he was beyond the circle of light. Standing thus, in the gloom of the night, he felt that the experience of that hour was worth the journey across the continent.

There was an impressive grandeur in the solitude that he had never felt before. On every side towered the immense peaks of one of the loftiest spurs of the grandest mountain chain of America. The crests resembled piles of blackness, with the stars gleaming behind them, while he, an insignificant atom, stood with gun by his side in one of the tiny hollows, as if to guard against attack from the sleeping monsters.

As is always the case, the stillness of the vast solitude seemed unlike silence, for a low, deep murmur was ever brooding in the air, varied now and then by the soft voice of some waterfall, borne across the vasty depths by an eddy in the gentle wind. Once the bark of a wolf sounded so sharp and clear that the youth started and looked to one side, expecting to see the animal steal forward from the gloom, but a moment's reflection told him the brute was a mile or more distant. Then, some time later, a mournful, wailing cry rose and fell from some remote point. He suspected that that, too, came from the throat of a wolf, but he was not sure.

Just a touch of homesickness came over Jack Dudley, and he felt lonely for the first time since leaving home. As he looked up at the clear sky he wondered whether his father and mother were well and asleep; whether they were dreaming of him; whether they missed him from that loved home and longed for the day when he should return to them.

"Suppose something happens that will prevent my ever seeing them?" he said to himself, while the tears filled his eyes. "I thought when I believed that rattlesnake had bitten me to-day that death was sure; and I was near it, though I was unharmed. We are in more danger here than I expected; but we are in danger every hour, no matter where we are. I hope nothing will befall Fred or me."

And standing alone in the midst of that wild, rugged scene, he silently lifted his heart to the only One who could protect and save them from the hundreds of perils that beset them.

His eye was fixed on the stupendous mountain beyond the plateau, at whose base wound the canyon, when he observed a growing light on its crest. The twinkling stars beyond grew dimmer, and the white blanket of snow that had lain there for centuries rapidly came out in bolder relief, until it sparkled and gleamed much as he had seen it do when the sun was shining. Then a curved yellow rim emerged from behind the mountain, its climbing of the sky so rapid that the progress was readily noted. In a brief while the whole form of the round full moon appeared clear of the peak, and its silvery rays began filling the gorges and chasms below.

The scene was picturesque and beautiful beyond description. As the moon climbed higher, the lower peaks, one after the other, leaped into view, while the hollows between became blacker and more awesome from contrast. Most of these were so deep that the illumination made them appear stronger by the contrast. As the orb ascended it seemed to shrink in size and to climb more slowly; but the shifting of the wonderful panorama, progressing as it did in complete silence, was impressive to the last degree.

It was as if the angels of the sky were noiselessly casting their fleecy veils of light over and into the awful depths below, and driving away the crouching monster of blackness that was thus roused from his slumber and forced to flee. Grand as was the scene, it was soothing in its effect upon the awed lad, who, leaning against the rock behind him, the stock of his rifle resting at his feet, surveyed it all with feelings that drew him nearer to heaven, and gave him a more vivid knowledge of the greatness and majesty of the Author of all that he saw and felt.

Standing thus, with his emotions stirred to their profoundest depths, Jack Dudley took no note of the passage of time. Midnight came and passed, and still he held his post, wondering, admiring and worshipping, as must puny man when brought face to face with such exhibitions of Omnipotence.

It was an unromantic ending to this experience that, forgetful of the consequences of what he did, he finally became sensible of the irksomeness of his standing position, and sat down, with his back to the rock, that he might enjoy it all without fatigue of body.

Need it be said what followed? He had not been seated ten minutes when his senses left him and he became as unconscious as Fred Greenwood, asleep in the cavern, on the other side of the smouldering fire. The hours passed until the light of the moon paled before the rosy hues of the rising sun, and still the boys slumbered and knew naught of what was passing around them.



CHAPTER X.

THE SIGNAL-FIRES.

Jack Dudley was awakened by the sound of laughter. Opening his eyes, he stared about him confusedly, unable for some moments to recall his situation. Fred Greenwood stood in front of him, shaking so much with mirth that he could scarcely stand.

"O faithful sentinel!" he said; "how well thou hast kept thy trust!"

"I don't see anything to laugh at," replied Jack, rising to his feet and rubbing his eyes; "you would have done the same if you had been in my place."

"Perhaps I should, and then the laugh would have been on me. But we have cause to be thankful that, while no harm has come to us, we have had a good night's rest. I suppose you dropped into slumber almost as soon as I did."

"No, I didn't," persisted the elder; "I stood here a long time, but made the mistake of sitting down for a few minutes, just before it was time to call you. I ought to have known better, and shall never do the like again."

"Well, we have been fortunate and it has taught us both a lesson. Let's attend to our toilet and have breakfast."

They laved their faces and hands in the cold stream of clear water running near them, combed their hair, stretched and limbered arms and legs by a series of gymnastics to which they were accustomed, and then, returning to the mouth of the cavern, found, by raking over the ashes, that enough live embers remained to broil the venison more acceptably than any meal that had been prepared since coming to the region.

By that time Jack had recovered his usual good nature, and was as ready to jest as his companion over his dereliction of duty.

"I don't know what time it was when I fell asleep," he said, "but it must have been past midnight. The moon had risen over that high mountain yonder, and I was admiring the wonderful picture its rays made as they shot out over the lower peaks and lit up the chasms between. I never saw anything so beautiful."

"You ought to have called me to share the pleasure with you."

"I have no doubt it was time to do so, but I knew you preferred to sleep rather than look upon Niagara Falls or the Yellowstone."

"If so, I am not the only younker, as Hazletine says, who has such a preference. That reminds me, Jack, that it's mighty lucky we are not vegetarians."

"Why?"

"What should we do for our meals? So long as we stay in these mountains we must live on game. This seasoning that Hank was thoughtful enough to give us makes it palatable, but coffee, bread and a few vegetables would help a good deal."

"It doesn't make much difference, so long as we are blessed, or rather tortured, with such appetites as we have had ever since we struck Wyoming."

From where they sat at the mouth of the cavern they saw all three of their ponies cropping the succulent grass. It was evident that nothing could add to their enjoyment of this outing.

Naturally the boys speculated over the absence of their guide.

"He must have expected to spend the night with us. And, Fred, perhaps it will be just as well, when he does come, that we don't tell him how I passed the time when trying to act the sentinel."

"I surely shall not, unless he questions us so closely that we cannot help letting him know the truth."

"He will have a small opinion of us."

"Why of 'us?'"

"Because you would have done the same as I."

"That has not yet been proven."

"Well, say 'myself,' if that suits better."

"It is a very good amendment. I wonder whether anything can have befallen him?"

"He is too much of a veteran to make such blunders as we."

"That is true, and yet the most skilful hunter in the world is liable to accident. What's frightened the ponies?"

One of the animals had raised his head, with the grass dripping like green water from his jaws, and was looking off to the side of the plateau as if he scented danger of some kind. He was near the further boundary, thus being considerably removed from the boys, who grasped their Winchesters and rose to their feet.

"It's Hank's horse," said Jack, in an undertone; "the others do not seem to be interested in what disturbs him."

"And there comes Hank himself!" was the delighted exclamation of Fred, as they saw their old friend step into view from behind the rocks and walk with his peculiar silent stride toward them.

The movement of the beard under the broad sombrero showed that the guide was smiling, and doubtless he was as pleased as the boys over the meeting. He advanced with the same lengthy step and extended his hand with his hearty "Howdy?" to each in turn.

"Glad to see you, younkers; you seem to have got along as well without me as if I'd been with you."

"Nothing has come amiss; but, Hank, we're glad indeed to see you."

"Where did you git your breakfast?" he asked, glancing at the signs of the meal of which they had partaken.

"Oh, I thought it best yesterday afternoon to shoot a buck," said Fred, airily; "for the main thing for us to do in this part of the world is to look out that we don't starve to death."

"You shot a buck, eh? How was it?"

Thereupon the younger lad gave the particulars of the incident. Hank listened attentively, and when he learned of the part played by Motoza, the vagrant Sioux, his interest deepened.

"So that scamp is in the mountains? I s'pected it; he claimed to have shot the buck and wouldn't divide till Jack took a hand. Why did you let him have any of it?"

"Because he had the right. I thought it was my shot that killed the game, but the bullet only grazed one of his antlers; it was Motoza who killed the buck, and he was entitled to him. Have you been to breakfast?"

"Yes," replied the veteran, whose manner showed that he was displeased with the story he had just heard.

"Hank," said Jack, "why did Motoza give us any of the venison?"

"I don't know," was the unexpected reply; "I'd give a good deal to know."

"Do you suppose he was frightened when he found there were two instead of one to face?"

"It looks that way, but I can't believe it. The Sioux is a scamp mean enough to do anything; but he has grit, and I don't believe that two young tenderfeet like you could scare him."

"Perhaps he felt a respect and friendship for Jack because of what took place in the grove on the prairie," suggested Fred.

The boys expected their friend to ridicule this idea, but he did not. On the contrary, he admitted that it was the most reasonable explanation that presented itself; and because of this admission, both of the lads were confirmed in their faith that the right cause had been named.

"One of you stood guard last night while the other slept?"

The question was so abrupt that Jack's face flushed. Fred was silent, but his comrade thought the best course was to make a clean breast of it, and he did so. Hank won the gratitude of the boys by not uttering a word of reproof or showing any displeasure. More than that, he made the astounding comment:

"I'm glad you slept most of the night."

The two looked at him in astonishment.

"If the Sioux meant you harm, you gave him the best chance in the world. He carries as good a repeating Winchester as yours, and there was nothing to keep him from stealing up in the night and shooting you both; or, if he liked the knife better, it would have been the easiest thing in the world for him to wipe you out when your eyes was closed."

This was a view of the matter that had not presented itself to the youths, for the reason, as will be remembered, that they had accepted the friendship of Motoza as a fact.

"But he could have followed and picked us off when we were on our way here," suggested Jack.

"Yes, he's had all the chances he wanted."

"Then it's safe to set Motoza down as a friend?"

But Hank shook his head.

"The safest thing to do when an Indian is afore the house is to set him down as an enemy waiting for a chance to lift your scalp. That confounded Sioux is one of the cunningest imps that ever stole a white man's pony or helped to stampede a drove of cattle. Everything that he's done since we come into the mountains looks as if he was a friend to us all. I can't help saying that, but it mustn't be furgot that the whole bus'ness may be meant to close our eyes, and that he's got some deviltry in mind back of it all, that neither of you younkers has thought about."

"Have you thought of it?"

The hunter would not reply to this direct question except to say:

"We'll have to wait and see."

And so Jack and Fred were left as much in doubt as before; but, it may be added, with their belief in the friendship of the Sioux unshaken. They reasoned that their guide was so accustomed to seeing the worst side of the red men that he found it hard to believe any good of them. As for themselves, they would feel no further anxiety over the enmity of Motoza, for had he not shown the best possible proof that could be asked of his good-will?

Inasmuch as Hank had given them a series of surprises by his questions and remarks, Jack Dudley now turned the tables on him by saying:

"Yesterday afternoon, when we looked down into that deep canyon over yonder, we shouted to you at the bottom, but suppose the noise of the water prevented your hearing us. At any rate, you gave us no attention."

The hunter was astonished, as he showed by his start and inquiring look.

"So you seen me, did you?"

"We did, and wondered what you were doing there."

Hank laughed in his silent way, as if it were all a joke, but did not offer any explanation. Evidently he had some business down there, but, like most of his kind, was not inclined to make known his secrets when the necessity did not exist.

"What a tremendous climb that was! And it must have been dangerous to pick your way down the side of the canyon."

"I s'pose it would have been if I'd done it, but I didn't."

"Then the canyon cannot be as extended as we thought?"

"That depends on how long you thought it was. As near as I can find out, it is between sixty and seventy miles."

Not wishing to persist in speaking in riddles, Hank added:

"Howsumever, though it's as long as I said, there's a break not fur away, where the banks ain't more than a few feet above the stream. The break isn't large, but it don't have to be. You obsarved that the stream runs into the mountains. It seems to be making a dive fur t'other side, as if it meant to make fur the Pacific, but it gives it up and comes back after a while, and finds its way into the Wind River, and so on to the Big Horn and the Missouri."

"Then you came up the canyon from the break and went back again?"

"I didn't say that. I come up to where you seed me, but instead of going back I climbed the side to the top."

"Gracious, what a task! It must be a thousand feet."

"It isn't much less, but the sides of the canyon are so rough that it's just like so many steps. I've done it often, and ain't the only one. Bart and Mort tried both ways and like the climb better, though Kansas Jim would never take it. Don't furgit one thing, younkers. When you have a job like that afore you it's a good deal easier to climb up than it is to climb down. If you should find yourself at the bottom of the canyon and hit the right spot, you'll larn that the work is easier going up than you think, but it's too resky going down for any one to try."

The boys hoped their friend would tell them why he had entered the gorge, when the act at best was exhausting and accompanied by more or less peril, but he ignored their curiosity, and they did not feel warranted in questioning him. When he thought it well he would tell them, and they could afford to wait until then.

The day was as perfect in its way as its predecessor. The blue sky showed only a few fleecy clouds at wide intervals, and the sun shone with a strength that made its warmth perceptible even in that elevated region. The boys began to feel impatient to be moving. A good many days yet remained to them, but they were all too few to satisfy their longing for the inspiriting life they had entered upon with so much zest.

As the three stood, the backs of Jack and Fred were toward the cavern, in which the fire had been burning, while the hunter faced them. He now turned and looked off over the wild, precipitous mountains by which they were surrounded. The youths, who were observing him, saw him fix his eyes on a point to the right, at which he gazed so long and steadily that it was evident he had discovered something of more than usual interest. Following the same direction they looked keenly, but were unable to detect anything out of the ordinary.

Despite his own fixity of gaze, Hank noted what they were doing, and turning abruptly toward them, asked:

"Do you obsarve anything 'tic'lar?"

"Nothing more than what we have seen," replied Jack. "There are the mountain peaks, most of them reaching above the snow-line; the dark masses below; the scrubby pines, with more abundant vegetation, still further down."

"Do you see that crag that juts out from the side of the lower part of that peak?" asked Hank, extending his hand in the direction indicated.

Thus aided, both boys looked at the exact spot. It was below the snow-line, where only a few of the rocks showed, because of the numerous pines which grew luxuriantly; but, keen as was their eyesight, they were unable to detect the first sign of moving thing or life.

"Try your glasses on it," said Hank.

The boys brought the instruments round in front and levelled them at the point of interest. As they did so they made a discovery. From the very centre of the clump of wood rose a thin, shadowy line of vapor, which was dissolved in the clear air before it ascended more than a few feet above the tree-tops.

"So you obsarve it at last," said the hunter, after they had told what they saw. "Wal, now study it closer, and tell me if you notice anything queer 'bout the same."

Wondering what he could mean, they did as he requested. A minute later Fred said:

"The smoke does not ascend steadily; first it shows plainly, then there is none, and then it shows again."

"Seems to keep it up, eh?"

"Yes, like the puffs from the smoke-stack of a locomotive, only they are a great deal slower," explained Jack; "but the smoke soon dissolves in the clear air."

"Not soon enough, though, to keep you from obsarving what we've been talking about?"

"No; it is too plain to be mistaken."

"Did you ever see the smoke of a camp-fire act like that?"

"Never; have you?"

"Many a time; that's an Injin signal-fire."

This was interesting, but caused nothing in the nature of fear on the part of the boys. It was Fred who remarked:

"The Indians must be signaling to some one."

"Exactly."

"It can't be to us?"

"Not much; it's to another party of Injins, and that other party is calling back to 'em. See whether you can find t'other signal."

The boys moved the points of their glasses back and forth and up and down, but it was not until their guide again pointed out the right spot that they located the second signal. Indeed the vapor was so fine and feathery that it was wonderful how Hank himself had been so quick to note it.

The points were of about the same elevation, and separated by a distance of some two miles. Peak and valley, gorge and canyon, rock and boulder in profusion lay between. No doubt could remain that two parties of Indians were telegraphing messages back and forth, and that they were understood by each party.

As yet the boys failed to see that the matter was of any special concern to them, though it was interesting to know that they were not the only ones who were hunting in that section.

"I suppose," said Jack, "that the parties are from the reservation and are signaling to each other about the game."

"That may be," replied Hank, after some hesitation, "but I ain't quite sure we ain't the game they're signaling 'bout."

"They wouldn't dare disturb us!" exclaimed Fred.

"Not in the open; but don't furgit what I obsarved to you some time ago that an Injin, when he feels purty sartin of not being found out, ain't to be trusted. Now, younkers, I may be all wrong, but if I am, nothing won't be lost by acting as if I was right; whereas if I'm right and we don't act that way, the mischief will be to pay."

"How shall we make sure?"

"By keeping our eyes open; when we're hunting fur game, look out that some of the redskins ain't hunting fur us. I think that confounded Motoza has a finger in this pie."

Without explaining further, the hunter rested the stock of his gun on the ground and leaned upon it in profound meditation. He paid no attention to his companions, but continued gazing in the direction of the first signal-fire he had noticed, and was evidently turning over some scheme in his mind.