CHAPTER VII.

HOLED.

Leaving Vic and the girl to pursue their way, we will follow the hunters.

They had an exciting chase, and brought down several fine animals, from which they elected a considerable quantity of the choicest portions, and then prepared to start for the cave.

As Wild Nat untied the halter of his steed from the horns of a buffalo, he suddenly straightened himself up, and bounding into the saddle, exclaimed:

“Look thar! We’re in for a race.”

Kent turned, and looked in the direction indicated, and saw, not forty rods distant, a large band of mounted Indians coming toward them at a furious gallop.

“Turn toes!” shouted Nat. “Don’t let the grass grow under yer feet nuther,” and in an instant the three were flying over the prairie, followed by the whooping savages.

At first they all kept together, but in a short time the mule bestrode by Scip evidently came to the conclusion that there was no necessity for him to exert himself quite so much, and slackened his pace, so as to be several rods in the rear of Kent and Rogers, much to the dismay of his rider, who alternately addressed himself to the mule and to his friends in advance.

“G’long, ye obstinate beastess,” he exclaimed, with a terrified glance over his shoulder. “Don’ ye know we shell be clean gobbled up an’ eat, we shell? G’long, I tell ye! In ’nother minnit we shell be cotched ef ye don’t hurry. _G’long_, ye lazy debbel! _G’long!_”

Then raising his voice:

“Hol’ on dar, boys! ’Tain’t fair to run away from a feller in dis way, ’clar’ ’tain’t! Hol’ on; dar’s no sort o’ danger. What ye goin’ so fast for?

“Git up! G’long! Oh! o-o-h! Gorry, we shell be killed,” he spluttered, as an arrow flew past him. “Now, see here, ole hoss, you _mus’_ go faster, deed ye mus’! Don’no’ what ye mean by gwine so slow. Don’ ye know—

“I say dar, ye fellers is scart! Dar’s no sense in yer gwine so fast, fur dar ain’t a _spec’_ o’ danger, not a _bit_! Jes’ see how cool dis chile takes it! Don’ look well fur ye to go so fast, nohow. Hol’ on now! I tell ye dar’s no— Oh, de Lor’! _G’long!_”

The frightened darkey “ducked” his head, as an arrow struck the fore-shoulder of the mule, and was agreeably surprised to see that this time his “G’long” was heeded, for, the mule, feeling the arrow, kicked his heels in the air, and with a snort was off, with such an increase of speed, that in a moment he had overtaken the others, and thereafter, the only trouble his rider had, was to keep him from going too fast.

“Ye ain’t takin’ it so _cool_ as ye was, be ye?” asked Wild Nat, as the negro shot past him.

“Ye’d better go faster,” answered Scip; “dey ain’t fur behind, an’ it’s much dang’rous to have ’em so clus. Will dey cotch us, t’ink?”

“Guess not,” replied the trapper. “In half an hour we’ll be on tew Deep Creek, an’ I guess we’ll fool ’em then. Ef we don’t,” he added, under his breath, “it’ll be apt tew go hard with us, for the buffler-hunt tired our hosses somewhat.”

Silence ensued between the trio, who anxiously watched the distance between themselves and pursuers, and were gratified to observe that it did not perceptibly lessen.

On they went at a steady gallop. Wild Nat had said that as long as it was possible to keep out of reach at that pace, it was best, as their animals would soon need their strength for the final stretch.

The Indians were about thirty rods distant. Ten, fifteen minutes passed, and then the fugitives approached the bank of Deep Creek.

“Foller me,” exclaimed the old trapper, as his horse plunged into the stream, followed by the others.

They were in the woods, so that their pursuers were hidden from view, and Kent was surprised to see that the trapper headed his horse up the stream, thereby going closer to the Indians, who were up the creek a short distance, and not far from the bank.

“Keep clus tew me,” said Wild Nat, “an’ keep perfectly still.”

“Are you mad?” asked the young man. “We are throwing ourselves into their hands.”

“Be we?” said the trapper. “Wal, I guess not. D’ye want tew be sculped?”

“Of course not.”

“Then foller me an’ keep still. Don’t shake yer jaw-bones so, Scip; they’ll hear yer teeth chatter.”

In dead silence the little party kept up the stream, while the yelling Indians followed their land-trail, and arrived at the stream about the time our friends were twenty rods above.

“Keep powerful still,” admonished Nat, as he turned his horse’s head to the shore. “Don’t make a sound. Ef ye do, we’re jest as good as baldheaded. Keep clus tew me.”

The others were not disposed to disregard this advice, and in a moment they were all on dry land.

“This way,” said the trapper, starting off through the woods. “Step karful, Rocky.”

The horse seemed to understand and made but little noise. After going at a trot for a short distance, the trapper struck into a gallop, in which he was imitated by the others. Ten minutes’ sharp riding brought them to the little rocky gorge, leading to a small rock-inclosed dell, where the horses were generally kept.

“Step lively,” said the trapper, as he dismounted; “’twon’t be long till the reds will find they’re fooled, an’ then they’ll be arter us.”

“Well,” said Kent, “why didn’t they follow us? What prevented them from seeing we went up-stream?”

“Sandy bottom. Don’t rile much an’ settles so quick they couldn’t see we’d been thar,” replied the trapper. “They naterly s’posed we’d gone _down_, as thet war away from ’em. Wagh! Old Nat’s good for ’em yit. Now, let’s _git_ for the cave!”

With great caution and the utmost silence, the fugitives hurried through the forest, and in due time found themselves at the cave. Vic and Marion were beginning to wonder at their long absence, and were agreeably surprised at their sudden appearance. In reply to their questions, Wild Nat related the incidents of the race, adding:

“I reckon they’ll feel ruther cantankerus about losin’ us so slick, but I don’t feel pertikularly sorry for ’em. Ef it hadn’t been thet thar war quite so many of ’em, we’d ’a’ stood an’ had a scrimmage. I’d like tew have deprived ’em of their sculp-lock. He he! I tell ye, Vic, it war fun tew see thet darkey! His teeth chattered so, when we war in the woods, they follered us by the sound! It’s a fackt! I war ser’usly ’larmed for fear we should have tew chew his buffler-hump for him. Reckoned his teeth would all shake out.”

“Oh, g’way now!” said Scip. “It’s no such t’ing, Vic; he’s foolin’, he is! Warn’t I ’way behind, takin’ it cool, when ye fellers war runnin’ like mad? Jes’ ans’er dat, will ye.”

“Yes, ye war takin’ it cool! Ye war so scart ye almost fell off yer mule! Gallinippers! Ye ought tew heard him holler ’G’long!’ Wagh! Wagh!”

And the trapper “laughed till he cried” at the recollection, while the indignant darkey relapsed into sulky silence.

Wild Nat had jeered at the negro so frequently concerning his cowardice, that he was getting to be sensitive on that subject.

“How long will we have to stay here?” asked Marion.

“’Bout two days, I reckon,” replied Vic. “Thar’s one thin’ thet I don’t see how we are goin’ tew’ git around. Thar’s no hoss for Marion, an’, blow me, ef I know whar we ar’ goin’ tew git one.”

“It’s a poser,” said Wild Nat, “but I’ve heern say thet perseverance an’ sweet ile will overcome any thin’, an’ we’ve got the perseverance, if not the ile. Mebby buffler-fat would ans’er, though.”

For the remainder of the day no one left the cave, but at dark Wild Nat went out to attend to the animals, and insisted on having Scip accompany him. That worthy rather demurred.

“Yer afraid!” said the trapper, contemptuously.

“Ain’t neither, tell you. Nebber war scart in my life,” retorted the darkey. “De trufe is, my head aches, an’ I don’ feel like walkin’.”

“Head aches!” ejaculated the trapper. “Wal, I should think it would! Ef my teeth had danced a double-shuffle for the length of time yern did, I couldn’t speak in a month. Don’t the hinge of yer jaw want ilein’?”

“Ye shet yer mouf!” replied Scip. “’S if I didn’t know ye’s a-lyin’. My teeth never chattered! I dunno what scart means; nebber war scart in my life!”

“I guess ye never war,” said Wild Nat. “Not more’n a thousand times. It war a sight, Vic, tew see him drum his mule an’ holler—”

“Shet up!” roared Scip. “Where’s my hat?”

And jamming his tile down over his woolly head, the darkey left the cave. The trapper followed, and in silence they took their way to the dell. Arrived at the narrow gorge which led thither, the trapper told the negro to remain there while he went and attended to the horses.

“Keep a sharp eye out for reds,” he added, “an’ if any of ’em gobbles ye up, jest holler an’ I’ll be here in time tew sculp ye.”

With which comforting remark he vanished in the darkness, leaving the terrified African to his own reflections. He by no means relished the idea of being there alone, but knowing there was no alternative, he fortified his courage as well as he was able, and tried to think there was no danger.

“No sorter use in me standin’ here,” he grumbled, after some time; “ain’t a spec’ o’ danger of eny one comin’ ’long. De trufe is, he’s coward hisself. What’s dat black t’ing? Oh, de Lor’! S’pose it should be an Injun! ’Tain’t dat; it’s nothin’ but a stump. Why don’t dat feller come ’long?”

He leaned against the rocky wall, and peered fearfully around him, as if expecting to see something advance from the darkness upon him. To his terror his expectations were realized. Before him, at the distance of half a dozen yards, rose up a tall, dark form, which advanced toward him, with uplifted arm.

“Oh, de Lor’, I’m a goner!” yelled the terrified African, as he turned and ran precipitately toward the cave, followed by the object of his fright, at a little distance behind.

“Ha! ha!” chuckled the pursuer, in a voice that sounded suspiciously like the trapper’s. “He feels like runnin’ ef not like walkin’! Guess I’ll stop; he’ll think I’m arter him all the same.”

And the mischievous trapper slackened his pace, and walked leisurely along. Not so with Scip. He made the best time he was capable of, and that was by no means slow—stumbling over sticks and stones in his headlong career, and not once stopping to look behind. As he bowled along, head down and arms flying, he was suddenly grasped and thrown to the ground.

Wild Nat, walking slowly at some distance behind, was startled suddenly by a succession of yells and shrieks of the negro, of such an earnest and explosive kind, as convinced him something serious was the matter.

Grasping his knife and revolver, he bounded forward, and in a moment had reached the scene. In the darkness he could only distinguish several dark forms struggling on the ground, among which he had no difficulty in recognizing Scip, from the volley of exclamations and ejaculations, interspersed with grunts and groans, which issued from his mouth.

The trapper fired his revolver at two of the enemy and then grappled with a third, leaving only one for the negro to contend with. The trapper’s adversary was a large, muscular Indian, and for a time it seemed doubtful which one would come off conqueror. They rolled over and over in the darkness, sometimes the hunter uppermost and anon the savage. At length the trapper, whose right hand held the throat of the savage, and whose left pinioned the arm of his adversary, discovered that the Indian, with his unoccupied hand, was endeavoring to draw his knife. Still keeping his hold he waited till the knife was partly drawn from the sheath, and then letting go his hold on the savage’s throat, he grasped the knife and plunged it into his red bosom almost to the haft.

Shaking himself loose from his now helpless foe, he turned to see how the negro fared.

“Take dat!” he was saying, “an’ dat, an’ dat! Yah, yah! Guess ye never see dis nigger butt! I’ll learn ye to tackle niggers what’s walkin’ peaceably ’long an’ mindin’ dere own concerns. Don’t ye wish ye’d never see’d dis chile? Yah, yah!”

“Want enny help?” asked Wild Nat.

“Not a spec’! Dis chile’s good fur one Injum. He’s mos’ dead now. Take dat; durn ye,” and with a tremendous whack on his adversary’s head, the negro rose to his feet. In the excitement of the flight he had forgotten his cowardice and fought with a purpose, and to a purpose, as his prostrate foe showed.

“We’d better be gittin out o’ this,” remarked the trapper, as he coolly replaced his knife. “It’s noways likely these are all thar is about. And in view of this fact, it might be as well for us tew emigrate.”

Accordingly the two men left the spot in silence, and with great caution. The trapper well knew that the four Indians were not alone, and that in all likelihood there was a large party not far distant.

When near the cave they encountered Vic, who had sallied out on hearing the firing, and together they entered the cavern.

“Are you all safe?” asked Kent, anxiously, as the tall form of Wild Nat appeared from the passageway.

“Safe an’ sound,” responded the trapper, as the others entered.

“What was the trouble?” asked Kent.

“Wal, ye see,” said the trapper, with a sly twinkle, “Scip war walkin’ peaceably ’long, when he war set upon by four of the red niggers. Naterly enough, he didn’t like tew be disturbed in a quiet walk, an’ he—wal, he hollered a few, an’ I ’rived in time tew make the ’quaintance of three on ’em, an’ he finished t’other one.”

“Guess he wished he hadn’t ’sturbed a peaceable nigger,” said Scip, loftily.

“How’d ye come tew be down thar, when I told ye tew wait in the gorge till I come?” asked Wild Nat, gravely.

The negro was taken slightly aback.

“I—wal—ye see—I—I got tired waitin’ fur ye, so I started this way. I went slow, an’ knowed ye’d cotch me ’fore I got here,” stammered the confused darkey.

“Yas. Mought I ask what ye call goin’ fast, ef yer gait was _slow_? I shouldn’t like tew run a race with ye ef _thet’s_ a slow gait with ye. Why didn’t ye hug thet feller thet ’peared to ye thar in the gorge, ’stead o’ runnin’ like a streak o’ lightnin’?” asked the trapper.

Scip stared. “I didn’t—I—I _never_ run!” he ejaculated at last. “Whar was you?”

“Wagh,” laughed Wild Nat. “I crept up thar an’ riz up suddently afore ye. Reckon yer blood must be kinder stagnated standin’ so long, an’ thought, a leetle exercise mought be good for ye. Ha! ha!” and the trapper laughed till the cave rung.

“’Twould ’a’ done ye good tew seen thet race,” he continued. “I’ve seen locomotives runnin’ full steam down grade, but it warn’t a cirkumstance ’long side o’ thet darkey! He looked like a streak o’ greased lightnin’, an’ went about as fast. Ef I could locomote in thet style, I wouldn’t look at enny hoss thet ever lived. I’d give up trappin’ an’ go tew carryin’ telegraff dispatches. ’Lectrical telegraff wouldn’t be nowhar, for speed.”

And again the trapper indulged in a hearty laugh, in which he was joined by the others, with one exception. Scip did not seem to see where the laugh came in, and sat in somber silence.

Shortly after this, they prepared for the night. Several skins were spread down and quite a comfortable couch formed for Marion, and the men stretched themselves out on the cave floor.

The following day wore wearily away. About noon Vic took his rifle and started out, saying:

“We’re ’bout out of grub, an’ I want tew stretch myself. Don’t worry ’bout the red-skins. Ef they hear my gun, which ’tain’t likely they will, as it’s got the faculty of not soundin’ off, they’ll know it’s a trapper or an Injun, an’ it’s the gal they’re arter. Ef they git arter _me_, I’ll bet they’ll have a chance tew measure sile.”

The cave was dreary enough. The only light was that afforded by a torch, and as, of course, the inmates were doomed to idleness, time passed rather slowly. Marion expressed a wish to see the cave, and Kent procured a torch and led the way, followed by Scip and the maid.

“Will you come?” asked Kent of the trapper, who made no movement to join them.

“No, guess not,” was the reply. “I’ve ’splored it often ’nough. Go ahead.”

The trio proceeded through the various rooms, wondering and admiring the structure, and to Marion, who had never before been in a cave, it was a wonderful place.

“One thing about this puzzles me,” said the young man, holding the torch aloft, as they stood in the furthest apartment, “and it is this. There is a slight circulation of air through the cavern, very perceptible when the stone is removed from the entrance; but there is no trace of an opening anywhere. I have searched repeatedly without success.”

“This apartment is higher than the other,” said Marion. “How gloomy it looks! Hold the torch this way, Wayne; I fancy that spot looks peculiar. Ah! it is an opening!”

“True,” said Kent, “but it is high up. And the wall is on such an angle that climbing is impossible. I regret it, as I have some curiosity to know where it opens. It seems strange that it should admit no light. It is at least twenty feet from the floor.”

Having thoroughly explored that part of the cavern, the party slowly retraced their steps to the first room. Vic had returned, and the two trappers sat in a dejected attitude, which struck Kent with a thrill of apprehension.

“What is the matter?” he asked.

“Ye look sort o’ down in de mouf,” said Scip, without waiting for a reply. “Yer lubly countenances is drawed down to a ’larming length. What’s up?”

“Matter enough,” said Vic, replying to Kent’s question. “_The Injuns have discovered the cave, an’ we’re boxed up!_”

Marion sunk down pale with apprehension.

“Oh de Lor’!” ejaculated Scip, “_what’ll_ we do?”

“How did it happen?” asked Kent.

“Wal,” said Vic, “it war in this way. I war ’way up the creek two three miles, an’ I had a little bout with three copper-skins, an’ worsted two on ’em an’ t’other one took leg-bail. I kep’ a sharp look-out, an’ I’m powerful sartin there warn’t any o’ ’em follered me, but the fact is, the _woods is full of ’em_. I seen more’n forty signs. I come back here an’ hadn’t been here long when I heerd a noise at the doorway thar. I jest peeked out of the passage, an’ thar war a pesky red-skin peekin’ in! I got my gun up a leetle the quickest, but the imp see’d me an’ drawed back, an’ slammed the stun down in a jiffy. Then we heerd them jabberin’ out thar, an’ hootin’ an’ yellin’.”

“That must have been the noise I heard when in the further cave,” remarked Kent. “It was so faint I supposed it was Nat, and thought no more about it. If there was only another outlet to the place! We discovered a small opening in the last apartment, but it is twenty feet from the floor, and can not be reached.”

“Why?” asked Nat, “can’t we climb?”

“Law,” put in Scip, “the wall slants toward the middle of the room at the top. It’s like clim’in’ the underside of a ladder that’s set slantin’. Can’t be done, _no_how.”

At the close of this scientific explanation, the trapper started up, and taking the torch, said:

“I’m goin’ tew see. Come, Kent.”

The young man followed, but in ten minutes they returned, saying that it would be impossible to escape through there, even if it led to the outer air, which was by no means certain.

“It’s entirely unpossible to reach thet hole,” said Wild Nat, throwing down the torch he held. “It can’t be done. We’re in a trap, thet’s sartin. We mought dig out ef the mountain warn’t so all-fired steep. As it is thar’s no chance tew come out fur enough from the alligators tew escape unseen; an’ thet ain’t the worst on’t nuther. Ninety-nine chances out’n a hundred, thet we’d come tew rocks thet would stop our tunnel.”

“It’s a tight place,” said Vic. “Fur’s I’m concerned, I shouldn’t mind runnin’ out thar an’ fightin’ my way, or die tryin’ it, but the gal’s a different matter.”

“Then I suppose we must content ourselves to stay here and starve,” said Kent. “Of course the Indians will stay here.”

“In _coorse_,” said Vic, “but then, _suthin’_ may turn up. We won’t give up anyhow. Be ye purty courageous, Marion?”

“I can stand it as long as any one,” she returned, bravely.

“Thet’s the talk!” said Vic. “Thar’s no danger of starvin’ for three days anyhow. This buffler-hump an’ haunch of venison will last thet long, an’ meantime we can use our wits tew find a way tew git out.”

The rest of the day passed slowly enough. None of the captives felt very cheerful, and but for their serious situation, Scip’s lamentations would have been ludicrous. He wished he had never come among “the Injuns,” and declared if he “ever got among white folks ag’in, guess nobody’d cotch him runnin’ ’round among wild Injuns!”

Night came at last, and the inmates of the cave retired as usual, with the exception of Wild Nat, who acted as sentinel. He took his station near the passage, and with old “Roarer,” across his knees, kept watch through the long night.

It was nearly morning, being the “darkest hour just before dawn,” when the hardy trapper, who had not once closed his eyes, heard a slight sound near the entrance of the passage. Instantly he was on the alert, and with ear strained, and eyes wide open, bent slightly forward, peering into the darkness.

The grating sound continued a moment, then a faint ray of light pierced the obscurity, and the outlines of a man’s head and shoulders appeared. In another moment the loud report of a rifle reverberated through the cavern, and with a howl of pain the form disappeared.

“Wagh!” chuckled the trapper, dropping the butt of his rifle to the ground. “Guess _thet_ feller won’t have any call to ’splore this ’ere vicinity jest at the present speakin’. Reckon thar was an idee struck him—or suthin’ else!

“All unanam’us!” he continued, as the sleeping men sprung up with exclamations of surprise, and the startled Marion asked what the matter was. “All right; I jest had occasion tew deal out justice tew a feller that was tryin’ tew sneak in without a pass! I sot as judge an’ jewry, an’ convicted the chap of evil intentions, an’ abated him, as a common nu’sance.”

“Zac’kly so,” said Vic. “I shouldn’t ’spose they’d be sich fools as tew think we’d sleep with both eyes shet. Guess they think we’re _green_.”

“Reckon they’ll find we’ve got our eye-teeth cut,” said Wild Nat, as he rammed down a bullet.

“Oh, golly,” sighed Scip, “I wish I war safe in the States. ’Tain’t no fun ’tall, to fight Injuns.”

“I wish we were safe out of here,” said Kent, with an involuntary glance at Marion.

“I’m with ye thar,” said Vic, emphatically. “Freeze me ef I ain’t.”

“I wouldn’t mind it so much ef ’twarn’t for the gal,” said Wild Nat, in a low tone, “tho’ in course, I hain’t enny hankerin’ tew starve in here. My motter is, ’plenty of br’iled buffler-hump, an’ onlimited liberty.’”

The Indians were evidently satisfied with their attempt, for they made no further movement. Dawn soon came, but brought no change to the imprisoned party. The day wore on, noon followed morning, and evening noon, as Kent’s watch showed; and still there was no change. Immured in the bowels of the mountain, afar in the vast wilderness, with no human being who knew of their situation, save their merciless foes outside, how could they hope for aught save death?