CHAPTER XII.

OSCAR TALKS TO THE COLONEL.

“What shall I do with the clothes?” continued Oscar. “Shall I bring them to you, or would you rather go up to the sutler’s and pick them out for yourself?”

“I’d rather you would bring them to me,” answered Tom, without looking at his brother. “Bring them to the mouth of the ravine, and I will meet you there—say in a couple of hours. You had better not come in here again, for my partner is an odd sort of a fellow, and doesn’t like to have any strangers about his camp. If I shouldn’t happen to be on hand when you come back, don’t wait for me. Just hide the clothes in the bushes at the foot of a big rock you will see there, and I’ll find them. You will know what rock I mean when you see it, for there is a large oak tree leaning over it. Good-by till I see you again.”

While Oscar was listening to what his brother had to say in regard to the disposal of the clothing, something told him that Tom did not intend to be at the place appointed to receive them.

Impressed with this idea, and believing that it would be a long time before he would meet him again,—if, indeed, he ever met him,—he resolved to extort from him a promise that he would not only withdraw from the companionship of such men as the one he had seen in the sage-brush, but that he would make an honest and persevering effort to refund the money he had stolen, and regain a place among reputable people. But he did not have time to say a word, for Tom’s good-by was an abrupt dismissal.

That he intended it should be taken as such was proved by his actions. As soon as he ceased speaking, he caught up the axe and plunged into the bushes.

“Don’t leave me in that way. I want to say something more to you,” cried Oscar.

He listened intently for a reply, but the only one he received was the echo of his own voice thrown back from the cliffs.

He called again, with no better success, and then, unhitching his pony, he sprang upon his back, and slowly and sadly rode down the ravine.

He turned in his saddle occasionally, to run his eye over the thicket in which Tom had disappeared; but he could see nothing of him, and finally a sudden turn in the road shut the camp out from his view.

The exhilarating gallop Oscar had enjoyed on his new pony had done much to cure his homesickness and banish the gloomy thoughts that had crowded upon him when he saw Leon Parker setting out for the States; but the events of the last half hour had brought them all back again.

He had never dreamed that he would stumble upon his brother in that wilderness, or that he would ever see him in a condition so deplorable.

Tom’s ill-gotten gains, which he had expected would bring him so much happiness, had brought him nothing but misery. He was thinly clad, his pockets were empty, he had often gone hungry, and he was the companion and associate of the lowest characters.

“His case certainly looks desperate,” thought Oscar, glancing at his watch and putting his pony into a gallop, “and I am completely at my wit’s end. I don’t know what to do, and I wish there was someone here to whom I could go for advice. Tom will never be anything better than he is while he remains with such fellows as that ‘partner’ of his, that’s certain; but how shall I get him away from them? That’s the question that troubles me.”

And we may add that it troubled him all the way to the fort; but just as he was riding into the gate a thought passed through his mind, inducing him to turn his pony toward the stable instead of toward the hitching-post in front of the commandant’s head-quarters, as he had at first intended to do. If anybody could help him it was the colonel.

He would not take the officer into his confidence, of course, but he would question him in a roundabout way, and perhaps during the conversation some hint would be dropped that would show him a way out of his difficulty.

Leaving his pony in the stall that had been set apart for his use, Oscar walked across the parade-ground and entered the hall leading to the colonel’s quarters, the orderly, as before, opening the door for him. He was glad to find that the officer was alone. He was engaged in writing, but when Oscar came in he laid down his pen and greeted him with:

“Ah! you have turned up at last, have you? I have had an orderly looking for you, thinking that perhaps you would like to take a short ride to try your new horse.”

“I have just returned from a five-mile gallop,” answered Oscar, who hoped that the colonel would not offer to accompany him when he left the fort to carry the clothes to the ravine. “I am going to start right back, and this time I shall take my gun with me. I saw some grouse and a big jack-rabbit down there in the sage-brush.”

“Oh, you can find them any day if you keep your eyes open,” said the colonel carelessly. “But I suppose you might as well begin to form your collection one time as another. How does your pony suit?”

“Very well so far. He showed a disposition to be ugly at first, but I had no trouble to bring him to his senses. By-the-way, I met a couple of wolfers while I was gone.”

“Well, what did they steal from you?”

“Nothing, sir. The only thing I had with me that was worth stealing was my pony. No doubt you will be surprised when I tell you that one of these wolfers is an old acquaintance of mine.”

“You don’t say so!” exclaimed the colonel, who was indeed surprised. “You beat anybody I ever heard of. How many more acquaintances are you going to find while you are out here? Are you going to ship this fellow off to the States, too?”

“No, sir; because he can’t very well—I mean he doesn’t want to go back where he came from,” stammered Oscar, who was not a little confused when he found that he had let out more than he had intended.

“_Ah!_” said the colonel in a very significant tone of voice. “It is a wonder you met him at all, for these wolfers generally have good reasons for keeping themselves hidden in the thickest part of the woods they can find. If you have cause to dislike this man—whoever he is—you may have the satisfaction of knowing that he can’t get any lower down in the world—not by land, as some humorist remarks.”

“I have no cause to dislike him,” replied Oscar. “On the contrary, I think a good deal of him; but I do not like the company he keeps. I met his partner while I was riding through the sage-brush, and I must say that he was the worst specimen of humanity that I ever looked at. He was tall and raw-boned, with grizzly hair and whiskers, a pair of wild-looking eyes——”

“And rode a little sorrel pony, with a sheepskin for a saddle,” added the colonel. “That was Lish, the Wolfer. I know him. Where is he now?”

“In the village, probably. I judge so, from the fact that, when I met him, he carried a couple of empty sacks across his pony’s neck. I thought he was going after supplies.”

“Where did you find his companion?”

“In camp, on the banks of the brook that runs through the ravine, about——”

“Orderly, tell Lieutenant Fitch I want to see him!” shouted the colonel.

Oscar was very much surprised at this unceremonious interruption, and he was still more surprised, and not a little alarmed, besides, when the lieutenant—who happened to be close at hand—entered the room in haste, and was thus addressed by his superior:

“Mr. Fitch,” said the colonel, “Lish, the Wolfer, has been in Julesburg. How long ago was it you met him?” he added, turning to Oscar.

“About two hours, I should say.”

“Well, he has had plenty of time to get drunk. Go and find him, Mr. Fitch, and listen to what he has to say. When he is in his cups, he is like an Indian in the war-dance—much given to boasting of his valorous deeds. If he says anything relating to that affair of last summer, take him into custody at once, and then go up and arrest his companion, whom you will find on the banks of that little trout-stream we fished in last summer. If one had a hand in it, the other did, too, and so we must pull them both.”

Having received his instructions, the lieutenant hurried from the room, while Oscar sank helplessly back in his chair, almost overcome with bewilderment and alarm.

“Worse and worse,” he thought, when he had recovered himself so that he could think at all. “Tom has been doing something else that renders him liable to arrest. What will become of him?”

Then, seeing that the colonel’s eyes were fastened upon him with an inquiring look, he called a sickly smile to his face, and asked, in a voice that was strangely calm, considering the circumstances:

“Are the wolfers all bad men?”

“Oh, no. There are exceptions, of course; but take them as a class, they are a desperate lot. I know of several men, two of whom I have in my mind at this moment, who made their start in life as wolfers. One of them is now a prosperous merchant in an Eastern city, and the other is running an extensive cattle ranch in Texas. But they were careful of their money, while the majority of those who follow that business squander every cent they earn. They brave hunger, cold, and all sorts of hardships for several months in the year, and devote the rest of their time to getting rid of their money. They are held in supreme contempt by all honest plainsmen, and this acquaintance of yours had better break off associating with them before he gets himself into trouble, if he hasn’t done so already. If he is going to be a wolfer, he had better hunt alone than in the company of that miserable fellow he seems to have chosen for a companion. No matter how much money he makes, Lish will find means to obtain possession of the whole of it.”

“Do you think he will rob him?” exclaimed the boy.

“He is capable of anything,” was the colonel’s reply.

And it was accompanied by a shrug of the shoulders that spoke volumes and excited a train of serious reflections in Oscar’s mind.