CHAPTER XI

"ALL, OR NONE!"

"GAME mine!"

When the dark-faced man in the fringed buckskin said these two words in an angry tone, Roger felt something of a shock. He looked closer, and realized that possibly the other hunter might _not_ be an Indian after all, but one of those half-breeds who sometimes made their homes with the tribes, and again sought the company of the whites, either English or French.

"Oh! is that so?" the boy answered back, in a satirical tone; "well, just prove it to me then, and I'll throw up my claim."

He kept his arrow fitted to the bowstring all the time, and aimed directly toward the breast of the other. Should the necessity have arisen he could have sped the shaft like lightning, even at such close range, for it only requires one quick movement of the arm to do this.

The man pointed to the arrow that was just back of the fallen elk's shoulder.

"Put there--in heart--bring game down every time!" he ejaculated, with the most refreshing impudence imaginable, that made the boy looked amazed, then furious, and finally laugh outright.

"Oh! is that your dodge, then?" he exclaimed. "You claim that as your arrow, do you? Well, suppose you show me another just like it. Every one of mine is tipped with eagle feathers, and made by the son of a chief; while yours are lined with the quills of a wild gray goose. That ought to be proof enough to settle the matter."

"My elk!" growled the other, with a glitter in his black eyes that boded ill for the boy, should he be caught off his guard.

But Roger knew well that his cousin must by now have unhitched both horses, and be hurrying up, intent on taking a hand in the affair, if necessary. Besides, he was in the habit of looking out for himself in such matters.

There is probably nothing that ever angered a borderer, young or old, more, than to have his right and title to certain game he had shot disputed by a rival claimant, when the evidence was all in favor of the first hunter.

Many a fatal quarrel has been recorded in the history of the frontier through this very same thing, where two men have crept up on their quarry, unknown to each other, and fired at about the same time. Each always rested under the belief that his missile was the one that brought the game down; or, even if this were not so, that he could have sent in a second shot which would have accomplished the end he had in view.

But Roger was a fair and square sort of lad, also generous in the extreme.

He could realize how keenly disappointed any one must be at finding another just ahead when the final test came. It was his design to prove his claim to the young elk, so that none could dispute it; and then offer to divide.

"Listen to me," he said, trying to speak impressively. "We may have crept up on the game at the same time; but I chanced to shoot first. My arrow struck there, and entered the animal's heart. That was a fatal wound. The beast had almost come to a full stop, and was staggering, ready to drop, when I heard your bowstring twang. Besides, your arrow entered in the body; and, as it was, without any other hurt, the elk would have run far before dropping. You know that as well as I do. And so it is my game."

"Ugh! better not try keep elk!" grunted the other, while his fingers were seen to twitch as he gripped his bow; but he had not taken time to fit another arrow after letting loose, and so the white boy had a decided advantage over him, which those restless black eyes had not failed to note.

"Now, I'll tell you what I'd be willing to do, because I know how hard it is to go through all that work of creeping up, and then lose the game. I've proved that my arrow killed the elk; but I'm willing to go halves with you! How does that suit?"

When Roger said this he knew Dick was coming, and that, as he undoubtedly would be holding his rifle ready in his hands, he could make quick use of it should the necessity arise. So that it was certainly not fear that induced him to offer to hand over half of the game to the rival claimant.

But apparently the dark-faced man was not the kind to appreciate such generosity. With him it was a matter of all, or none. He knew well that by rights he had no sort of claim to the game, but hoped to bully the boy into abandoning his just claims.

"My game!" he replied doggedly; "see first, and shoot before same fall. What business you have here in hunting land of Shoshones? If I tell chief, Running Antelope, he soon find, and have scalp hanging in wigwam!"

"Oh! I guess not," remarked Roger, thinking that it might be best to let this other, who must be friendly with the hostile Indians, believe that he and Dick were only the forerunners of a large party; "for my friends would come up in numbers, and burn the village of Running Antelope, if he so much as injured a hair on my head. But here is my hunter companion; let us see what he says."

When the half-breed turned his head, and saw what a well-armed fellow Dick was, as well as noted the look on his face, he drew back a step, as though realizing that his absurd claim on the quarry would never have a ghost of a show at making good. If one white boy could not be browbeaten, there was little chance that he could bully a pair of them.

"What's all this about, Roger?" asked Dick, as he jumped from his horse, rifle in hand, and pressed the weapon of his cousin into the other's willing hands; for, after all, a gun felt much better than a bow, when there was need for action.

"Settle this matter, Dick," observed the young hunter, eagerly. "I shot first, and you can see my arrow sticking just back of the shoulder. It must have reached a vital place, for the beast was just staggering, ready to fall, when I heard his bowstring sound--and you can see where he struck. That elk would have run one or two miles with a hurt through the body like this; because we have seen deer do the same. Am I right, Dick?"

"Every word of it is the truth, Roger," replied the other, quietly, but at the same time positively.

"And," Roger went on, "you can see whose arrow it is that did the business, Dick; because mine are feathered with eagle plumes, while his all have the gray goose quills fastened on the shaft, circling it so as to give the arrow a whirling motion as it passes through the air."

"The proof is everything that any honest man would ask to back up your claim," Dick continued; "but what were you offering to do when I came up? I heard him say that it was his game, and saw him shake his head as if he refused an offer."

"Why, I didn't want to be stingy about it, and offered to share and share alike with him," replied Roger. "That was fair enough, since the whole of the game belongs to me by the law of the woods."

"I should say it was," his cousin exclaimed, turning again to the half-breed, who stood there, moodily listening to this talk, and shooting black looks at the pair of white boys.

"And then he started to threaten me, saying that if he carried the news of our being here in the land of the fierce Shoshones to their big chief, Running Antelope, he would come with his braves, and make us prisoners, so that our hair would hang in the lodges of the Indians. That's a nice way to answer a fellow, Dick, when he makes an offer like that. It was just like a slap in the face."

"Just so, Roger; and for one I think you ought to take it back, after the way he answered you," Dick went on, frowning at the dark-faced man. "He says all or none, does he? Very good, let it be none, then. We can use this young elk nicely, and you earned the prize. I never saw a better stalk in my life."

"And," remarked Roger, still meaning to impress the half-breed with the idea that they were only the skirmishers of a large party of whites that was advancing up the Missouri, "some of the rest of our friends would be glad of a chance to put their teeth into such tender juicy meat as this, eh, Dick?"

Of course Dick guessed instantly what object his cousin had in making such a queer remark, but he was too wise to say anything to the contrary. In fact he thought so well of the little scheme himself that he smiled, and nodded his head as he remarked:

"Well, I should think they would, Roger; anybody'd like a meal of such tender meat. And now, who may you be? I don't suppose your name is Lascelles, is it?" and he turned upon the half-breed as he asked this sudden question.

A flash of intelligence, when that name was mentioned, passed over the dark face of the other; but he shook his head in the negative.

"Not Lascelles. Know same though. Name Batiste Dupuy. Trapper, trader, voyageur from the North. Friend of Running Antelope, and the Cheyennes. They give right to hunt, trap all through this country. Paleface boys no business shoot elk. My game! Must have all or none. Ugh!"

If his name was Batiste Dupuy, as he claimed, the half-breed must have lived a good part of his life among the redmen, for he had copied many of their ways. His knowledge of English seemed rather meagre, for he could hardly find suitable means whereby to express himself; for, while he spoke, he made many violent gestures, that were intended to add vigor to his few words.

"Then make up your mind you're going to have none," said Roger, now growing angry himself at the arrogance of the fellow. "If you want your arrow, here it is; but not an ounce of the elk meat do you get."

He jerked the shaft feathered with the quills of the gray goose from its lodging-place in the side of the dead elk, and handed it out toward the other. The man condescended to take it, but immediately broke it across his knee, as though by such violent means he expected them to understand that he intended to be their inveterate foe from that time forth.

"Go! Get out of this!" cried the impetuous Roger, pointing with his quivering finger. "And just remember, Monsieur Dupuy, we have long rifles here, and know how to drive a nail at thirty paces; so that, if you try to do us any harm, it will be at your peril. That is all."

An Indian might have said, "I have spoken!" but Roger's way was just as expressive, accompanied as it was by that sweep of the hand.

The man's eyes narrowed until they seemed to be mere slits, as he glared at the bold young speaker. Then he flung his head in a disdainful gesture, and remarked with a sneer:

"Never before did Batiste Dupuy take orders from a cub. Huh! wait and see who laughs loudest. Mebbe Batiste, his hour will come soon. Lascelles, you said?--it may be I know same; and he much glad to hear of you! Sacre! that is all I say!"

With that he made them a mocking bow, showing that he surely had French blood in his veins, and, whirling on his moccasined heel, strode angrily away.

After going a certain distance he turned and looked toward them, as if measuring the intervening space. Roger even thought he could see him fitting an arrow to his bowstring and at once half raised his rifle threateningly. If Batiste had intended trying a shot at them, he speedily abandoned his idea when he saw how ready they were to send their lead in his direction. He must have known that pioneer boys were quite at home with their long-barreled guns, and could snip off the swaying head of a wild turkey, buried in the earth to its neck, at the annual shoots where the best marksmen came together to compete.

At any rate, he contented himself with shaking his fist in their direction, and then moving away again.

"A good riddance to bad rubbish!" exclaimed Roger, though evidently pleased to see the last of the ruffian.

"And we'd better be getting away from here as soon as we can," remarked Dick, better able than his impulsive companion to understand what this chance encounter, and the making of an enemy, might mean for them.

"But he knows that François Lascelles, Dick; you heard him say so!" Roger remarked, as he started to fasten his horse, so that they could cut up the game as speedily as possible, and ride away, one of them meanwhile standing guard, so that the half-breed might not sneak up close enough to use his bow on them.

"Yes, I guessed that he might, for they belong to the same class," the other observed, thoughtfully. "Perhaps Lascelles has bought pelts from this rover, and they may be the best of friends. And, if he knows that the French trader is anywhere around here now, be sure he will try to get word to him as fast as he can, to tell about our coming. And from now on we will have to be on our guard every minute of the day and night, looking for an attack from either the Indians, or the party of the Frenchman. They did not seem to know just how many started out with Lascelles and his son, but it must have been several."

"And of the same stripe as himself," remarked Roger, starting to take the skin from the young elk with a skill that had been attained only through long practice. "Remember what our fathers said, Dick; day and night we must keep watch for the silent foe that would crawl up on us unseen, and catch us napping!"