CHAPTER X.

“THE CAVE OF WINDS.”

Notwithstanding the reassuring words of Little Rifle, both he and Harry deemed it best to make a cautious survey of the river above the falls, before leaving their vicinity. It was possible that a party of Blackfeet might be in their immediate vicinity, in which case they were in imminent danger of being seen and pursued, while if their presence was unsuspected by the red-skins they could continue their journey homeward, with very little fear of any molestation from foes in the rear.

“Remain here while I climb up above the falls,” said Little Rifle, “it will take but two or three minutes at most.”

“Have a care,” admonished Harry, “for these red-skins are mighty sharp, and I think can see around a corner.”

The young trapper smiled to think that his new acquaintance should deem him in need of advice, in such a business, but he continued as cautiously and carefully upward as if he was sure of finding Blackfeet there.

And so there were, as he very speedily found out. Where in the name of the seven wonders they came from he could not guess, but he saw half a dozen, just above the falls upon the other side, groping their way down-stream, and still more upon the same side with himself coming directly toward him! This latter party were scarcely a hundred feet distant, and in a few minutes would reach the spot where he was. This was a most alarming state of affairs, and Little Rifle had to think and act at once. One glance was sufficient to tell him the whole story, and hastily backing out from his perilous position, he scrambled back to where the wondering Harry was awaiting him.

“They are coming!” he exclaimed in a terrified whisper; “there is a whole party, and they’ll be here in a minute. Where shall we hide?”

“Hanged if I know!” replied Harry, fully as startled as his friend, and with less presence of mind. “Let’s jump into the water again, and keep diving.”

Such a course would not have been recommended by the lad in his cooler moments, and it did not affect Little Rifle in the least. He looked vainly around in quest of some rock that offered a chance to hide, and when he was actually meditating going forward and surrendering himself, in the hope of being ransomed by the authorities at the fort, there flashed upon him, as if by inspiration, a remark that he once heard Old Ruff Robsart make about a cavern behind the falls into which he once made his way.

“It’s our only chance!” he exclaimed, dashing toward the water. “Come on, Harry! it is death or life with us!”

Young Northend had no idea what he meant, but he did not hesitate to follow him at full speed, so that he reached the spot scarcely behind him.

Little Rifle dashed down among the rocks, and reaching the edge of the water, at the very edge or side of the falls, he paused, and looked despairingly around. He could see nothing like a cavern, nor any thing that seemed to afford an entrance to such a retreat.

“I guess we shall have to give it up,” he shouted to Harry, who, unable to catch a syllable in the thunderous din, but understanding the trouble, pointed ahead and yelled:

“There’s a chance to make your way through to something else!”

Neither did Little Rifle hear a word uttered by his comrade, but the motion of his lips, and the gesture of his hand indicated sufficiently well what he meant.

Following the direction indicated, he saw through a thin sheet of water, scarcely thicker than the soap bubble, and that reflected the prismatic hues, the dark outlines of a rock, that scarcely was as high as his waist and which was within easy leaping distance.

Not a second was to be lost, and Little Rifle had no sooner detected it than he made a spring, cleaving through the gauzy vail, and striking the flat surface of the rock, which was so slippery that his feet slid forward, and he fell flat upon his back.

Before he could gather himself up, Harry followed, and he too sprawled at full length, neither receiving any injury, and both assuming the perpendicular almost at the same moment.

The fear of Little Rifle was that by plunging through the feathery sheet, and temporarily breaking it, they had dissolved it altogether, and failing to reunite, it would leave not only the rock upon which they stood, but themselves, in full view of the Blackfeet, as soon as they should descend the rocks and place themselves below the falls.

But the screen instantly resumed its normal place, and spread over them like a fan of the thinnest glass, shutting them in, but permitting them to look through upon the outer world. Its transparency, or rather its texture, however, was not like that of a perfect window-pane, but it was faulty, abounding with tremulous nebulæ here and there that gave a fanciful, grotesque imagery to the objects upon which the eye rested, and that as a consequence, made the picture of themselves equally untrue to nature.

Still, although they had reasonably increased their chances of eluding the Blackfeet, they were in danger, so long as they maintained their present position, and both cast about to discover what their facilities were in the way of a further retreat.

The result was better than they dared to hope. The sheet of water that poured over their heads was fully a hundred feet in width, and the black, slippery rock stretched clean across beneath it, with a width varying from ten to a dozen feet.

The instant Little Rifle discovered this gratifying fact, he began picking his way carefully along, closely followed by Harry.

When they had reached the center, they paused by a common instinct, feeling that they could not increase their chance of safety by going further; and here, as they stood side by side, they looked upon the scene with emotions of wonder, amazement and awe.

Above them, to a great height, the black, dripping rocks extended like the jagged irregular roof of some cavern, gradually making their way outward, until they formed the ledge over which the entire river swept in its resistless majesty.

It may be said indeed that they stood in a cavern, one side of which was composed of the wet, inky rocks, and the other was the volume of water, converging both in front and back of them, so that the open space resembled a cone in shape.

Looking upward the mighty mass of water had a deep emerald tinge, like melted glass, and through its translucent depth, the sunlight could only partially penetrate, so that they were enshrouded in a sort of misty twilight. To the left, as they picked their way along the ledge, this volume was white, foamy and impenetrable to the eye, and looking down, the boiling, tumbling, roaring, seething battle of the water was of such an appalling nature as to make the strongest man shiver and draw back with affright, as though he had caught a glimpse of the Plutonian regions.

For a few moments the lads forgot all about their danger from the Indians in the terror inspired by the stupendous scene, and they stood looking up, around and below them with feelings to which no adequate expression can be given. Then they looked in each other’s faces, and Harry spoke.

Little Rifle saw his lips move, and placed his ear to them. The boy shouted with all the strength of which he was capable, but, although their heads touched each other, the young trapper could not catch a syllable, and looking again in each other’s faces, they laughed and shook their heads, as an acknowledgment that their tongues were of no present use to them.

They were in a world where the language must be one of signs. Little Rifle looked beyond him and pointed to a dark, forbidding opening, which looked as if it were the entrance-way to some vast subterranean chamber; he moved carefully toward it, doubtless recalling something that Old Ruff had told him about his explorations in the same direction, and the truth of which he proposed to test.

Harry, instead of picking his way after him, remained standing where he was, until he saw that he had passed the most dangerous point. Then, concluding that it was best to find out whether there was any danger approaching from the Indians, he began retracing his steps to where he and his friend had landed upon their backs.

The moment he reached a point where he could gain a partial view of the outside, he halted, so as not to run too great a risk of being seen by any of their enemies.

It was well that he did so, for at that very instant he descried the dreaded Blackfeet. They were of gigantic size and grotesque shape, as viewed dimly through the glassy sheet that intervened, but they were Indians unmistakably, and three of them were standing upon the very rock from which he and Little Rifle had made their leap but a few minutes before.

“I always believed that when a fellow traveled over the rocks he didn’t leave any trail behind him,” thought Harry, as he stealthily viewed the red-skins; “but it does seem that you can’t hide yourself from those Blackfeet. I shouldn’t wonder, now, if they have been tracking the canoe through the water, and have come down below the falls to pick up the trail again.”

But second thought convinced the lad that the Indians must be aware of the existence of this “Cave of the Winds,” and that they must have discovered some traces of other parties being there. He could see their arms sawing the air, and moving about in a way that showed very clearly that they, too, were using the language of signs in the presence of the thunderous noise.

“I do believe that they are discussing the question as to who shall take the first leap,” thought Harry, as, stretched flat upon his face, he anxiously watched their movements. “And what do they want to come here for, unless it is to gobble us up?”

A very natural conclusion, under the circumstances, and Harry concluded that if such were really the case, it was high time that they should take some precautions to stave off the peril.

He had no gun with him, and it was not in the nature of things that he should consider himself equal to the task of grasping with a sinewy Indian, most probably in the prime of life.

So he looked about to see what had become of Little Rifle.