CHAPTER IX.

HO-HO! AND AWAY!

The lovers were beginning to wonder at the long absence of their friends, and both anxiously awaited their return.

“What success?” asked Wayne, eagerly, as Vic entered.

“Knives is trumps!” replied Vic, “or I’m a knave. We’ve found a way out, so jist pack up yer duds an’ prepare to slide.”

Intensely delighted they were soon ready, and in half an hour Vic thought it was dark enough to start. Accordingly they left the scene of their troubles, and threaded the damp passages and low caverns to the other entrance.

“Keep powerful still,” admonished the trapper, as they neared the outside. “Don’t speak after we reach the open air, an’ walk mighty keerful; thar’s no tellin’ how clus the Injuns are. Varmints, but it’s a dark night! So much the better for us; now keep still.”

The trapper cautiously left the cave, followed by the others. When once outside Vic took the lead, and the others kept close to him, and in most profound silence they shaped their course toward the spot designated by Wild Nat.

A considerable time elapsed before they reached the leaning cottonwood. Wild Nat was not there, somewhat to Vic’s surprise and uneasiness, and the party quickly secreted themselves in the dense bushes near, so that, in case any straggling Indian came that way, they would be secure. Vic waited in some suspense for ten minutes, and then as the trapper was still absent, he concluded to give the signal.

Twice the long, solemn hoot of the owl rose on the air, so perfectly natural that Kent was surprised, and then, in a moment, came the answering hoot, thrice repeated, away to the left.

“All right!” said Vic; “he’ll soon be here.”

Ten more minutes passed, and then, clear and sweet, only a few yards distant, sounded the night-bird’s note, “Whippowil! whippowil!” in quick succession, twice repeated.

“Keep still!” admonished Vic; “I’m goin’ tew see what’s wanted. Thet’s Nat.”

The trapper dropped on his hands and knees, and crawled away. The trio in the thicket waited with intense solicitude for his return, but so silent was his approach, that he stood beside them before they were aware of it.

“All right!” he whispered. “He’s got the hosses up here a few rods away, an’ we must go to ’em. Come on.”

Again in silence the little party took up the line of march, and, piloted by Vic, soon arrived at the spot, where, close to the edge of the creek, stood the trapper and the horses.

“Mount,” he whispered, as they came up. “I’ve confiskated a Blackfoot’s animile, an’ as I dunno what sort of a kitten it is, I’ll ride it, an’ let Marion hev mine. Up with ye, little ’un!”

A moment sufficed for them all to mount, and then they started under the guidance of Wild Nat, who rode at once into the creek.

“Where ye goin’—” began Scip.

“Keep still,” ordered the hunter, “ef ye want tew keep yer skulp. Don’t splash the water so.”

All advanced with as much silence as possible. The very horses seemed to use caution, and all went well. Wild Nat followed down the stream for the distance of about four miles, determined to balk their enemies if possible. No alarm was heard behind them to indicate that their absence had been discovered, and they cherished strong hopes of escaping without detection and pursuit.

At the end of four miles the trapper led the way out of the creek, taking the left bank and heading his horse in a north-east direction. Considerable care was taken for some distance to cover the trail, but when a mile from the creek, the party abandoned the precaution as no longer necessary, and increased their hitherto slow pace to a gallop.

The darkness which had thus far been dense began to show signs of lifting. The clouds rolled away and allowed the stars to shine, and the dim light thus afforded enabled the fugitives to see their way. For several miles they continued their pace, and it was only when the cave was a good ten miles behind, that Wild Nat slackened his speed, and broke the silence which had thus far reigned undisturbed, save for his laconic directions given at intervals.

“Thar,” he remarked, letting the reins fall loosely on his horse’s neck, while the others imitated his example, and all subsided into a walk. “Thar, I guess we’re about safe as fur as _them_ Injuns is concerned. I flatter myself that they don’t foller us very easy. Ef we don’t run afoul of another batch on ’em, we’ll stan’ a good chance of gittin’ off.”

“Golly!” ejaculated Scip. “I wish we could git somethin’ to eat. I’m jest clean starved.”

“Of course! Who ever knew a nigger that had enough?” responded Vic. “Wait till it’s light. I ain’t filled tew overflowing with vittals myself, and mean tew walk into a butcher-shop soon.”

“How did you contrive to get the horses, Nat?” asked Kent.

“Oh, I jest went round kinder cautious, an’ found they’s thar whar we placed ’em, an’ then I scouted round an’ see’d thet the reds warn’t near enough to hear, an’ led ’em out. Ez I couldn’t take but one at a time, it took me quite a spell, but arter I got our four out, an’ safe in a thicket, I jest detarmined tewr have another one. So I begun lookin’ round, an’ I found the Injuns’ hosses out a piece from the creek, an’ jest quietly took one on ’em. I reckon they’ll blow _some_ when they find we’ve gone an’ took the best hoss they had, but thet won’t disturb us in pertic’lar.”

“It’s rather remarkable that they hadn’t found ours before this time, isn’t it?” asked Kent.

“Wal, no, I dunno as ’tis,” replied Nat. “Ye see, thet’s a plaguey neat place tew put ’em. Ye can’t git in only one way, an’ thet’s rather on t’other side from the cave. Gallinippers, but the hosses war glad tew see me! Every one of ’em showed they war glad to see somebody ag’in.”

“I’m all-fired mad tew think thet the pesky varmints hev discovered thet cave,” said Vic. “It’s teetotally tew bad. Now it’s jest gittin’ in the edge of the best trappin’ time, an’ tew hev them upset our plans in this way is enough tew rile anybody.”

“What direction are we going?” asked Marion.

“North-east,” replied Wild Nat. “We’ll strike the emigrant trail a leetle arter sunrise, ef we hev good luck.”

Steadily throughout the night the little party kept on, and at sunrise reached the Sweetwater river. This they forded, and half an hour later they struck the trail, a little further down the river.

“Halt here for breakfast,” said Wild Nat, stopping in the edge of the woods, and slipping the saddle off his horse. “We’re ready ’nough for it, I guess.”

“Yes, but whar’s the vittals?” asked Scip.

“Can’t ye see them ducks yender by the river?” asked Vic. “We’ll hev some of them ef nothin’ else turns up.”

The whole party now dismounted. Nat proceeded to care for the animals and prepare a fire, while Vic and Kent took their rifles, and started toward the river.

Marion wandered about the edge of the grove, and plucked a few wild-flowers with the dew still on their bright petals, half forgetting her hunger in her admiration of the lovely scene before her.

The sun was just up, and the cool green woods were deliciously fresh and pleasant, with the dew on the leaves and grass, while the birds burst out in trills of melody among the branches. A squirrel ran along her pathway, stopping a moment to turn his head on one side, and scan her with his little bright eyes, and then with a “chit-er-e-e,” was off among the bushes.

Over the river the flocks of ducks rose and fell, and merrily through the forest rung the echoes of the hunters’ guns, showing they were not idle.

As she stood contemplating the scene, Scip loudly called her, and going to him she found him sitting on the ground, close up to the hollow end of a fallen tree, with something in his hands. He evidently was pleased, for his capacious mouth was stretched in a broad grin, showing at least twenty-four of his thirty-two glistening ivories.

“Yah, yah! Jest see here, Miss Marion.”

“What is it?” asked Marion, curiously, as she approached.

“Chickens,” responded Scip, holding up to view the mother partridge, and then cautiously withdrawing himself from the log, he revealed to Marion’s admiring gaze a nest full of downy chicks and one or two eggs.

“How pretty!” she exclaimed, admiringly. “But how did you catch them, Scip? I always thought they would run.”

“Dey would,” replied Scip, with a chuckle, “only ye see dey couldn’t. As I’s comin’ ’long I jist see her settin’ here, and grabbed her ’fore ye could wink. Den as I sot ag’in’ de log, why ob course de chicks couldn’t git out.”

“They are frightened,” said Marion, touching one of the downy backs. “Let the mother go, Scip, and come away.”

“Y-e-s,” replied Scip, hesitatingly; “but I’s hungry, Miss Marion.”

“Nonsense! You don’t want to kill the bird and let the poor little ones starve?” said Marion. “Vic and Wayne will get plenty of food. Do let her go.”

Scip rose rather reluctantly and released the bird, with a longing look at her plump proportions, but getting a glimpse of the sportsmen returning with hands full of game, he followed Marion with alacrity.

“Jist look here, will ye?” said Vic, holding up to view a brace of ducks and a large goose. “Don’t thet look like eatin’?”

Kent followed with several more fowls, and they fell to work to prepare them for cooking. Hunger made nimble fingers, and in an incredibly short space of time half a dozen birds were impaled on sticks around the fire, soon sending forth the most appetizing odors. While the process of cooking was going forward, Vic was digging in the woods near and soon appeared with his hands full of white, fleshy-looking roots, washed clean in the river, which he pronounced good to eat, and the finely-browned birds being pronounced done by Wild Nat, the hungry travelers hastened to discuss them. The fowls were excellently flavored, and although in some places hardly done and guiltless of salt, our friends were not disposed to be particular, and it is doubtful if they ever ate another meal that relished so well. The old proverb says: “Hunger is the best sauce,” and in this case the half-starved fugitives found it so.

“Wal, I ’low thet we’d orter be movin’,” said Vic, when the repast was over. “Thar’s no knowin’ how many of our hospertable friends are arter us, an’ I, for one, hed jist as lief git tew Fort Laramie ’fore they overtake us, as not.”

“Count me in dar,” said Scip. “I’ve had ’nough o’ _dem_ for once.”

The horses were caught and saddled, and once more they were moving. Vic rode a few yards in advance, and Wild Nat about the same distance in the rear. Sharp look-out was kept for enemies, but, fortunately, none were seen, and the rejoicing travelers kept on their way unmolested. It was no part of their programme to dally by the way, that the Indians might overtake them in case they were following, and they traveled steadily, only stopping two hours at noon to allow their tired horses to feed and rest. Meeting with no obstacles and encountering no foes, their progress was rapid, and sunset found them about seventy miles from Fort Laramie. Here they encamped for the night, selecting a sort of grotto in some rocks, where they would be sheltered from observation. No one felt disposed to sit up “star-gazing,” and as soon as it was dark they prepared to “turn in.” The most sheltered situation was chosen for Marion, and a rude couch formed by means of boughs and blankets. The men lay down beside the fire, one remaining up to keep guard, and occasionally changing with the others, that all might receive the sleep so much needed.