CHAPTER XXI

THE PICTURE WRITING ON THE BARK

"WHY, they're gone!" the backwoods boy exclaimed, as he stared hard at the spot where he had supposed their visitors were still lying.

The blanket was there, carefully folded over a stick of wood, so as to give the impression at first glance that some one might be underneath, though Roger now saw that this could not be so.

"Yes, that's a fact," added Dick, just as if he meant to say that any one with eyes could see it.

"But, if you thought this would happen, why didn't we do something?" asked Roger.

Dick shrugged his shoulders.

"Why should we try to stop the old squaw if she thought it best to leave us in this way? She is naturally suspicious of all whites. And perhaps, for all we know, she might have thought we meant to take that little girl away to our people. So, just like an Indian, she watched her chance, and while we slept crept out of camp. Let them go, Roger; even if we wanted to, we couldn't spare time to look for them now. We have to find that river to-day, you know."

"Yes, I think you're right, Dick," admitted the other, slowly, as he grasped the idea. "And anyhow, she didn't take my blanket. I ought to be thankful for that, I suppose. Indians are born thieves, they say. But see how she wrapped it about this piece of wood, just to make me think one of them might be lying under the folds. What's that lying on top of the blanket, Dick?"

"Looks to me like a piece of fresh bark," replied the other, as he stepped forward.

"Oh! it may be a message!" cried Roger, his eyes sparkling.

"Just what it is," answered his cousin. "See, she has drawn it in pictures, for you know that's the only way Indians can communicate their ideas to each other. Here is what she means to stand for our camp, with four of us sitting around a fire, two being men and the others women, for they have skirts. Then you can see the last two creeping away on their hands and knees. And here they come into what I guess must be an Indian village."

"How easy to understand what she wants us to know," declared Roger, much struck by the manner in which the old squaw had left word that she and the little Indian girl were even then on their way to the village where they belonged.

"I thought something like this might happen," Dick said, presently, "when I saw the squaw hiding small pieces of meat last night, instead of eating them herself, hungry though she was. She meant to keep them for the child. A warrior, or an old squaw, may be able to go without a bite for days, but not a child."

Roger folded his blanket, and stowed it away, after which he went back to the little blaze he had started, saying in a humorous way:

"Well, anyhow we can have our meat cooked as we want it this morning, and not half burned in the Indian style; and that's worth something;" at which remark his comrade laughed.

"The chances are we'll never know just who old Karmeet was, or the pretty little dark-faced girl with her," Roger observed later, while they were eating their frugal meal. "Dove Eyes, she said her name was; and perhaps it was all right, though I never yet saw a turtle-dove with such black eyes; did you, Dick?"

But Dick's mind was already wrestling with a weightier problem. He had to map out the day's march and figure on whether they would be apt to strike the river by still heading due north. Roger was already questioning in his mind whether they had not better turn somewhat toward the northeast, so as to make doubly sure; but as yet he had not dared speak his thought aloud.

But after all, it looked as though these things were ordered for the best. Supposing they had never left the bank of the Missouri, what would have been the fate of Karmeet and little Dove Eyes? Surely there must be some Power that regulated all such affairs; and even this wandering on their part had been for a purpose.

As they rode on that morning they gradually left the timber behind once more, and found it only in scattered _mottes_.

Roger was wavering in his belief, but Dick never allowed himself to doubt that, sooner or later, they must come upon the river again, and possibly many miles above the spot where they had left it. He himself had been figuring it out, and reached the conclusion that there was a tremendous bend above the place of their turning aside to make a "cut-off;" and that, when they were able to again look upon the current of the river, they would have saved possibly a hundred miles of territory.

And should this prove to be the case Dick stood ready to thank his companion for being the cause of their wandering. What had promised to be a disaster might under such new conditions prove a blessing in disguise.

At noon they halted only long enough to take a cold bite. Indeed, this might as well have been done while on the move, only that the boys had compassion on their horses, and wished to give them a little rest in the middle of a hot day.

More than once Dick had raised himself in the stirrups as the afternoon wore on. Roger noticed this finally, and of course was curious to know why he did it.

"Do you think you see anything ahead there, Dick?" he demanded.

"I was noticing the formation of the land," came the calm reply; "and, Roger, unless I'm greatly mistaken, we're going to come on the river before the sun sets."

"I only hope you're a good prophet, Dick, that's all," the other quickly returned, as he, too, looked long and earnestly ahead. "And now that you've called my attention to it, I do believe it looks promising over there. Well, for one, I'm fish hungry, and I don't care who knows it. It seems like a terribly long time since I felt a fish tug at a line."

What Dick so confidently predicted came true.

Just one hour later they no longer had the slightest doubt about the river lying ahead, for there were many things that went to prove this fact. Roger gave himself up to picturing the success that was bound to follow his fishing operations; for, as has been remarked, the boy never was happier than when engaged in his favorite occupation.

"If we don't get there until about dark, Dick, promise me that you'll lay out our camp to-night close to the water, so that I can have my fill of fun without having to go far for it. Seems to me I don't want to lose sight of the water in a hurry again."

"I feel pretty much the same way as you do, Roger," replied the other, frankly. "And so I can safely promise you what you ask. We'll sleep to-night so near the water that it will make music to put us to sleep."

"The finest of music, too," ventured Roger; "especially after you've been silly enough to lose it for three nights running. But then I keep on hoping we may have gained something after all, which would make my blunder the easier to hear."

"I'm sure that it will turn out to be so," added generous Dick.

"And that we are right now closer to the exploring party than ever before; that would be just fine, eh, Dick?"

"It certainly would, Roger. There, if you look yonder, you can see the sun shining on what can be nothing else than running water."

"Yes, yes, that's what it must be, Dick; the river at last! I'll be glad to see our old friend again. Two months we've been following its course; until now we are so far away from our homes that it almost seems as if we might never get back there again. But it does look good to see the water again, and to know that perhaps we'll even have a taste of fresh fish soon."

Even the horses seemed to know that the water was close by, for they acted as if given new life, pushing on with a vim that had been lacking during the earlier part of the day.

And so, about an hour before sundown, they came upon the Missouri once more, flowing peacefully between its wide banks, and at this season of the year rather low; so that here and there islands could be seen, as well as sandbars, on the latter of which flocks of birds sought their food.

"Now let's find a good spot where we can stay until morning; and it must be a fishing place, too," Roger remarked, as they turned their horses' heads up-stream.

Ten minutes later he suddenly called out:

"Look! how would that little island do, Dick? We can easily let the horses wade out, because it is hardly to their knees, I feel sure. And if you examine the lower part of the island you'll agree with me that it's just the finest place to let a baited hook float down-stream anybody ever could find. Please say yes, Dick!"

Roger was so urgent, and there seemed so little chance of anything like disaster following the move, that even cautions Dick could not resist. And when they put the horses to it, they found that the water, as Roger had declared, was not more than a foot or so in depth, so that the passage was easily accomplished.

It was only a small island, with a few trees growing upon it, though even these showed signs of having been compelled to fight for existence when the spring freshets came along.

"We might as well make camp here at this lower end, eh, Dick?" asked Roger, who had an eye on the fishing possibilities, and was anxious to get busy.

Dick had been looking around, as usual, being desirous of getting the lay of the land fixed in his mind in case there should come any sudden necessity for a change of base during the night, when he would know what to do.

"Just as you say, Roger," he remarked. "If we are going to camp here, one place is about the same as another to me, so long as we keep our fire well hidden. And I can see where that can be easily done among these rocks back here. The horses we can tie to the trees with their ropes, and there is enough grass to do for one night. So get busy as soon as you wish. I'll take care of everything else."

"Thank you, Dick; you feel for a fellow, don't you? But then you never were just as wild for fishing as I am. Oh! don't it seem good to be back once more close to our old friend, the river? And all night long I'm sure the splash of the water on the rocks will keep me sound asleep. It's the next thing to getting home again."

And in a short time Roger was attending to the several stout fish lines that he had baited, and thrown far out upon the passing current.