CHAPTER XI.

THUNDER ALL AROUND.

There stood the daring young trapper, directly behind him. He, too, had recalled the danger, and was at bay, holding his rifle, cocked and grasped, ready to discharge the instant it should become necessary.

Both of the lads were saturated with water, for besides their recent plunge into the river, there was a damp moistness in the air, like a copious dew, that would have rendered their garments dripping with water, supposing they had been dry at the time they entered this Cave of the Winds.

His gun could not be otherwise than wet, but the charge was dry, and it could be relied upon to do its duty in case of an emergency; and it was well that it was thus, for the danger was at hand.

Seeing that he was backed up by his young friend, Harry withdrew his gaze from him and resumed his scrutiny of the three Blackfeet, still standing in full view upon the rock.

He had no more than turned his head when one of the Indians took a step forward. There was a pause, and then he burst through the thin, glassy sheet, as he made his plunge, his dark body being seen for one instant in mid-air, incased in the transparent setting, and then the crouching body landed almost upon the head of Harry, who hastily drew back to avoid a collision with him.

Moving forward to grapple with the red-skin and to endeavor to throw him over the ledge before he could recover, he saw him with amazement roll over as if in great agony, and then, dropping like a log from the slippery rock, he instantly shot down from sight, vanishing in the seething waters below--gone from human sight forever.

All this took place in such a brief space of time that Harry was completely puzzled to understand what it meant. He could divine no reason why the Blackfoot, after effecting a landing, should take it into his head to commit suicide in that fashion. It was impossible that he should have lost his footing so completely that he was unable to prevent the catastrophe, and yet what else could have done it?

In his perplexity he turned about again to see whether Little Rifle could gesticulate any explanation, and the young trapper did, so effectually that it could not be misunderstood, for, as Harry glanced at him, he was in the act of ramming home another charge in his rifle.

This explained it all. Little Rifle was prepared, and the instant the red-skin broke through the glassy sheet of water, he had fired, giving him an almost instantly fatal wound.

What a vivid realization of the deafening roar of the water, that the gun, although fired directly over his head, and almost within arm’s-length, still failed to give him the slightest report.

Little Rifle now showed a keenness of perception and a fertility of resources which in reality was nothing short of the wonderful. As he stood with his rifle held to his shoulder, and his finger pressing the trigger, his view of the Indian bursting through the sheet of water, like the athlete of the hippodrome leaping through the ring of paper, was sharply distinct, although but for a passing moment of time.

The expression upon the face of the Blackfoot was that of surprise at seeing the two lads before him. He did not expect to see them--was not looking for them, and the red-skins who remained upon the outside were not aware of their being there.

This, as all will see, was a great point in favor of the lads, if the deception could be continued; but there was the imminent danger that the rest of the Blackfeet, waiting in vain for the return of their comrade, would discover the truth. In such a case, a desperate fight, with the certainty of a fatal result upon the part of the lads, was sure to follow.

Comprehending the nature of the Indian, with its childish credulity and superstition, Little Rifle determined to appeal to this weakness. The Blackfeet believe that the waterfalls of their country are haunted by spirits, and knowing of the existence of the cavern in the rear of this, they could not but look upon the act of their companion as one of daring intrepidity.

The young trapper touched the arm of Harry, and motioned for him to draw back out of the way, while he crept forward until his eyes were at a point where he could see the Indians without showing himself. He waited only long enough to see that fully a half-dozen were clustered upon the rocks, where he suspected they were discussing the action of their companion.

Little Rifle then pushed his gun forward, and pulled the trigger. It was not aimed at the group, for he had no desire to injure any of them, unless compelled to do so in self-defense, but through the gauzy vail every one of them must have caught sight of the sheet of fire, without hearing any thing of the report.

This was enough, and they vanished from the spot as suddenly as if the ground had opened and swallowed them, not one being visible a dozen seconds afterward.

This was also a huge step forward upon the part of the boys, but there remained still the difficult necessity of getting out of their uncomfortable quarters, and making their way back to the cabin of old Ruff Robsart.

If the Blackfeet had left the rock, it was hardly probable that they had left the neighborhood, and the moment the boys should show themselves, they would be in for it again.

Under these circumstances, it would seem that there was really but one course for them to pursue, which was, to remain where they were until night, and then trust to the assistance of darkness for them to get away without being discovered.

Such, we say, was the course dictated by common sense and prudence, and yet a most unexpected and novel cause now appeared to prevent it. There are few of our readers, perhaps, who are not aware of the rapidly increasing distress caused by an unusual sound in the ears, when it is continued for any length of time. The screaming of a car-whistle, or the near booming of a cannon, after a while becomes unbearable, and will drive mad the person who has not become accustomed to it.

In the excitement of the occasion, and the danger from the Blackfeet, the lads were insensible to any discomfort from the overwhelming roar of the falls; but now, when standing directly beneath them and reflecting that they would probably have to wait for hours, they became aware of a growing uneasiness--a nervous restlessness, rapidly changing into distress, which convinced both that they could not maintain their position and retain their senses at the same time. It would not be long before the time would come when they would be willing to incur any risk to escape the intolerable anguish of this uproar.

Harry was ready to make the leap at once, but Little Rifle had hopes of accomplishing the result by another plan. It will be remembered that he had started to explore what seemed to be a cavern, the opening of which was but a short distance away; but he had withdrawn from the attempt under the conviction that there was more imminent need of him elsewhere.

He was now ready to take up the work again, and motioning for Harry to follow, he moved toward the dark, forbidding depth of what might be an interminable cavern.

To give himself the free use of his arms, he had strapped his rifle to his back, and he now groped cautiously along, like a man feeling his way in a dark room.

Of course the darkness rapidly deepened, until in a few minutes it became impenetrable. The floor of the cavern was slippery, and the utmost care was necessary to prevent a fatal catastrophe. When their eyes became of no further use, both sunk upon their hands and knees, and crept along in this fashion, Harry keeping so close that he could touch the foot of Little Rifle, who used one hand, as an elephant uses his trunk in venturing upon a treacherous support.

Two noteworthy facts impressed themselves upon the lads. The floor of the cavern was becoming freer from dampness, and after a time was absolutely dry--a most gratifying change, for they had had so much of water during the last few hours, that it seemed to both that a day or two of scorching thirst would be acceptable, as a means of relief.

Again the floor of the cavern was ascending, very gradually, but none the less positively for all that. Little Rifle suspected that the dryness of the rocks, over which they were crawling, meant that they had passed from beneath the river bed, and were under the solid earth, but with little prospect of ever reaching the surface.

But the most gratifying and welcome fact of all, was that they were getting away from the tormenting uproar of the waterfall. With every foot they advanced through the labyrinthine cavern, that terrible continuous crash grew less and less distinct, until it finally sounded like the dull roar of the distant ocean.

The relief was unspeakable, and the ringing din in their ears speedily subsided, so that they began to feel something like their natural selves again. It would be easy enough for them to remain in this part of the cavern until the coming of night, and Little Rifle concluded that this was what they would do.

As they got further away from the tumult, of course they found use for their tongues, and, as may be supposed, they made good use of them, as a sort of recompense for their enforced idleness.

“Suppose the Blackfeet follow us here?” inquired Harry Northend.

“I don’t think there is any danger,” replied Little Rifle, who then made known--what we have already stated to the reader--his belief that the Indian whom they had shot, was not in pursuit of the lads, and indeed did not know or suspect their presence behind the falls. This theory was entirely new to his friend, who, after hearing the reasons for his belief, was disposed to believe it implicitly.

“Then all we have to do,” he continued, “is to wait here until night comes, and go out the same way that we came in. Isn’t that it, Little Rifle?”

“I am afraid it is, unless we can find some other way out. What time of day is it?”

“It must be past noon; I remember just before I went over the falls, that I took my last look, as I supposed, at the sun, and it was then directly overhead, so it must have been about mid-day.”

“Yes,” returned Little Rifle, “the afternoon is only fairly begun, for things have moved lively with us, since then. If we stay here until night, we have got a good six hours’ stretch before us at least. I have waited many a time for a much longer period than that, but it isn’t the most pleasant thing to do, especially when you don’t know whether you are going to make any thing by it or not. I hope we can do better.”

“You have hinted that same thing before,” said Harry; “what do you mean by it?”

“You know that I told you that Old Ruff Robsart has been here before us. It was a long time ago, and I do not remember what he told me; but I suspect that he found his way out by a different passage from the one he used in entering.”

“And you think there is a possibility of our finding the passage?”

“Yes--although there isn’t much hope either, but I would rather be moving about, even if we don’t find any thing to pay us, than to stay here, and wait till the night comes.”

“So would I,” added Harry, in his cheery voice. “I got a little crack just now from something against the sore on my head, that stung me a little--but it is all over now. Lead on, and I will follow. If you are going to change your gait, give me notice, so that we don’t get separated.”

Promising that he would do as requested, Little Rifle continued his progress.