CHAPTER XXXVI.

THE TABLES TURNED.

When the wolfer had disappeared, Oscar arose from his place of concealment and walked slowly toward the cabin. While on the way his attention was attracted by the actions of the mule; which, after following the pony a short distance down the valley, stopped and brayed after him, as if urging him to come back.

Oscar supposed that he would, of course, go off with the mustang (the two animals never seemed to be easy when they were out of sight of each other), but the mule showed no desire to do anything of the kind.

He called to his companion several times, and then, turning about, galloped up to Oscar and brayed at him, as if he were trying to tell him how lonely he was.

“So you are going to stay with me, are you?” said the boy dolefully. “That is very kind of you. I must give you back to your master in the spring, and if you had gone off, I should have been two hundred dollars more out of pocket; but where I should have raised the money to pay for you is more than I can tell. Come on, old fellow!”

The mule followed Oscar toward the cabin, and would probably have gone in there with him, if the door had not been closed in his face.

Oscar was gone but a minute, and when he came back he had a piece of hard tack in his hand. He gave the mule a bite of it, and, holding the rest just in front of his nose, led him around to his quarters and shut him up. Oscar felt a little easier after that.

Having put it out of the mule’s power to run after his companion, the young taxidermist went back into the cabin to see how things looked there. It was in the greatest confusion; but, without wasting any time in useless repining, he set to work to restore order.

At the end of half an hour he had got matters in such a shape that he could make an estimate of his losses. His rifle was gone from its place over the door, but the cartridges that belonged to it were all there. The thief had not taken them, because he did not know how to manage a breech loader; and he had carried off the rifle in order to put it out of Oscar’s power to follow him and recover his property by force of arms. A good portion of the bacon and crackers was missing, but the cans containing the condensed milk and preserved fruits were none of them gone. The robber did not know what they were. The saddles, bridles, both his blankets, all his cherished specimens, and every one of the skins he and the guide had trapped had disappeared; but the wolfer had not wantonly destroyed anything, and Oscar was very thankful for that.

This forbearance on his part was all owing to his wholesome fear of Big Thompson. If Lish had known that his dreaded enemy was more than forty miles from the valley, and increasing the distance at every step, he would have taken more time to select his plunder; and his desire to be revenged upon Oscar for something the boy never did might have led him to burn all that he could not carry away.

Having put everything that was left in its place, Oscar threw a few sticks of wood on the fire, drew a stool up beside it, and sat down to think over the events of the day; but an instant afterward he jumped to his feet, placed the stool in front of the door, stepped upon it, thrust his hand into the space between the roof and the topmost log, and could scarcely repress a shout of exultation when his hand come in contact with something wrapped in a piece of deer-skin.

“The thief didn’t get this, anyway,” he said, as he drew the stool back to the fire. “If I had had it in my hands when I first saw his ugly head sticking in at the door, I don’t know whether he would have had so easy a time in robbing the cabin or not.”

As Oscar spoke, he unwrapped the deer-skin and brought to light a silver-mounted revolver and two boxes of cartridges. When he first came into the hills, he had always been in the habit of carrying the weapon with him on his hunting excursions; but, having seen how handy it was to have something else in his belt when it became necessary to build a fire in the woods or to cut a drag, he had put the revolver carefully away, and carried a hatchet instead.

While Oscar sat holding the weapon in his hand, an idea suddenly suggested itself to him—one that caused him the most intense excitement, and led him to believe that his affairs were not in so desperate a state after all.

Why could he not follow the robber, watch his camp when he saw him leave it, run up and recover the articles that had been stolen from him, and get away with them before Lish returned? Or, what was to hinder him from making use of the very tactics which the wolfer had so successfully employed—namely, surprising him in his camp, ordering him out of doors at the muzzle of his revolver, and making off with his property; taking with him the robber’s rifle, so that the latter could not pursue him with any hope of success.

“I’ll do it!” said Oscar to himself. “We are both out of reach of the law; and, since there is no officer here to protect me, I have a perfect right to protect myself. Yes, sir; I’ll do it.”

Oscar was so very highly elated that he could not sit still; so he arose from his stool and walked up and down the cabin while he matured his plans, which were to be carried into operation the following morning.

Being afraid to allow the mule his liberty, he cut a quantity of cottonwood boughs which he threw into the stable for him to browse upon; brought him some water from the brook; and, having provided for his comfort as well as he could, left the cabin—with his revolver for company—to make the round of Big Thompson’s traps. He knew that the best way to make the time pass rapidly was to keep busy.

By daylight the next morning breakfast had been disposed of; and Oscar, having put on his overcoat—taking care to see that his trusty revolver and a plentiful supply of cartridges were safely stowed away in one of the pockets—released the mule from his prison and sprang upon his back.

Did that long-eared animal know where he was going, and what he intended to do? It certainly looked like it; for, during the whole of the journey to and from the wolfer’s cabin, he was under as perfect control of his rider as he would have been if he had had a bit in his mouth.

Oscar guided him by touching his head with his hand on the side opposite to that toward which he wished him to turn. But he did not require any guidance at all after he struck the pony’s trail.

He followed it through all its windings, and in due time brought his rider to the place where the wolfer had passed the night. It was in his old camp—the one he and Tom had occupied when they first came into the valley.

The fire was still burning, and this showed Oscar that he was close upon the heels of the robber.

From this point forward Oscar was often obliged to check the mule’s impatience, which he did by talking to him. The animal, if left to himself, would have broken into a gallop and brought the boy face to face with Lish in less than half an hour; but this was something that Oscar particularly wished to avoid.

His object must be accomplished by strategy, or it could not be accomplished at all. What he was most afraid of was that the mule would give notice of his approach and warn the thief at the same time by setting up one of his resounding brays; but happily his fears were not realized. The animal was as silent as though he had lost all power to utter a sound.

After leaving the camp in which the wolfer had passed the night, the trail wound through a deep gorge that led from one valley to the other.

It was about ten miles across here, and the eager mule walked so much faster than the pony could with his heavy burden that if he had had a mile further to go he would have brought the thief and his pursuer together before the camp was reached.

He nearly overtook Lish as it was, for he was not more than ten minutes behind him.

Almost before Oscar knew it he found himself riding out of the gorge into a valley, and there, a little to his left and in plain view of him, was a smouldering fire, and beside it stood Big Thompson’s pony, with his pack still on his back.

Under the lean-to, in front of which the miserable fire was smoking, was a prostrate figure, dressed in a suit of clothes that Oscar instantly recognized, and over him stood Lish the Wolfer, holding a heavy switch in his hand.

Both were talking loudly, one commanding and threatening, while the other begged and protested. The next moment the wolfer began a fierce attack upon the prostrate figure, who struggled feebly, and cried in vain for mercy.

All this passed in half a minute’s time. Oscar, astonished and alarmed by his unexpected proximity to the wolfer’s camp, tried to stop the mule; but the animal, which up to this moment had been so docile and obedient, disregarded his commands, uttered a loud bray, and started on a full gallop for the camp. He had seen his companion, and a curb-bit would not have kept him from hastening to join him.

But Oscar made no further effort to check him; he did not think of it. All idea of concealment and strategy was gone now. His brother was being severely beaten before his eyes; and, worse than that, he was taking the punishment without making any determined effort at resistance. This proved that there was something the matter with him, and that he needed help. Fortunately for Tom, it was close at hand.

While the wolfer, warming to his work, was putting in his blows with such force that the end of the switch began to show signs of wear, something like a clap of thunder sounded close to his ear; and, when he picked himself up from the corner of the lean-to, into which he had been sent headlong by Oscar’s terrific blow, he saw the two brothers with their arms around each other. The face of one was suffused with tears, while that of the other wore a threatening scowl. In this one’s right hand, which was supporting Tom’s head, was something that was still more threatening—a cocked revolver, whose muzzle was pointed toward the corner from which the bewildered wolfer was slowly rising.

“Tom! Tom! what is the meaning of all this?” cried Oscar in great alarm. “Tell me quick what has happened. Why, what’s this?”

The hand which he drew tenderly across his brother’s battered countenance was marked with a crimson stain.

Oscar gazed at it a moment in speechless amazement; then he looked at his brother’s bandaged foot, and finally he turned his eyes toward the wolfer.

At the sight of him he jumped to his feet, caught up the switch, which had fallen from the wolfer’s hand, and attacked him with the greatest fury. Lish howled loudly, and tried to fight off the blows, but he might almost as well have tried to resist Big Thompson. His active young assailant was as strong just then as two boys of his age generally are; and, to show that he had both the determination and the pluck to back up his strength, we will simply mention the fact that when Lish, driven desperate with pain, dashed forward to close with him, Oscar met him full in the face with a left-hander that knocked him clean through the brush side of the lean-to.

“Look out, Oscar! Look out!” cried the amazed and terrified Tom, who now, for the first time, found his tongue. “He’s got a knife!”

But Oscar’s blood was up, and he did not heed the warning. He ran quickly out of the front of the lean-to, intending to meet Lish on the outside. But the latter was too smart for him. He was almost out of sight in the woods, running like a deer, his hair sticking straight out in the wind behind him.

“What’s the matter with you?” panted Oscar, as he threw all that was left of the switch upon the fire. “Have you frozen one of your feet?”

“No; I cut it with an axe,” sobbed Tom. “O Oscar, you don’t know how glad I am to see you again!”

These were the pleasantest words to which the boy had listened since he left home. There was so much meaning in them that a protracted conversation between them was not necessary.

“Can you sit on a horse?” he asked.

“I can try,” replied Tom, smiling through his tears. “But I am pretty weak, and almost frozen. I have had nothing much to eat for thirty-six hours, and I haven’t been able to get about to gather any firewood.”

“Hasn’t your partner taken care of you?” exclaimed Oscar.

“Not by a great sight. He stole my last blanket, took almost all the food we had, and left me to shift for myself. When you came, he was beating me because I could not get him something to eat. How could I make him a cup of coffee when there wasn’t any coffee?”

Oscar jerked the remnant of the switch off the fire and went out to look for Lish. But that worthy was out of sight.