CHAPTER XI

ON THE BANK OF THE YELLOWSTONE

"BAD news for us, Dick," muttered Roger, shaking his head despondently.

"I am sorry it had to happen," the other remarked; "but while there's life there's hope. Jasper is no novice in woodcraft. Those Frenchmen and their red allies will find it no easy task to capture him. And even if they should we are bound to try to bring about his release."

"It must have been that François Lascelles and his rascally son, Alexis, surely," ventured Roger.

"Yes, I am sure of it," Dick admitted, frowning.

"They were not satisfied with destroying the paper we had sent home, but came back to keep us from getting Jasper to sign another. Oh! they are determined to steal our homes away from us! They will stop at nothing to take them!"

"All is not lost yet. Remember that we have always managed to pull through in times past. We shall again; something seems to tell me so."

When Dick said this he looked so determined and resolute that, as usual, Roger found his own spirits wonderfully revived.

"I complain a lot, I know," he remarked, as though ashamed of his actions, "but all the same I give up hard. Deep down there's a never-say-die feeling in my heart. When you say we will keep everlastingly at it you express what I feel."

Both felt better after that. They knew that it was useless to pay any further attention to the faint trail of Jasper Williams and his two companions. They must trust partly to luck in order to once more run across the man they so urgently desired to see.

"One thing we must remember," said Dick, as they again set forth on their way.

"What is that?" asked Roger.

"We have come to know Jasper fairly well since joining the exploring company, and helping him to escape from Running Elk's Sioux. We even know some of his signals, and if we have any reason to believe he is around we can make use of them to communicate with him."

"That is a good idea," agreed Roger. "Even if he is a prisoner we could let him know friends were near by using the secret call. But we seem to be making for the bank of the river; tell me what plan you have in mind now."

"You heard me ask Hardy about the exact place they were set upon by the Blackfeet? That is where we must go first of all. Trail we have none, for the last seen of Jasper he was on the water, which leaves no track. But, starting from that point we will follow up the river until we find something."

"We could not do better, I am sure," acknowledged the other, and Mayhew nodded his head as though he also concurred in the plan.

"If the Frenchmen are Lascelles and his son," continued Dick, as they trudged along, "they would not care if Jasper were killed, so long as he could not interfere again in their scheme to defraud our parents out of their property."

"Yes," added Roger, impulsively, "and, should our friend be captured, they would influence the Blackfeet to carry him far away to their village in the Northwest country, where he would be made to adopt their ways and become an Indian warrior. Either that, or else he would be burned at the stake, after their usual custom with prisoners of war."

"We are close to the river," Dick announced.

The Yellowstone is a very turbulent stream, especially far up toward where it has its source in the great lake of the same name. It rushes down over its rocky bed with numerous cataracts, making navigation impossible to any but canoes managed by the most experienced paddlers.

The fretting of its current was plainly audible long before the little party arrived on the bank. Above and below, it wound in and out, seldom keeping a direct course for half a mile, such was the roughness of the country through which it found a passage.

Without wasting any time in admiring the wonderful picture that was now spread out before them, the three scouts turned up-stream, and continued to advance. They were anxious to reach the scene of the fight between Jasper Williams's little band and the Blackfeet, set upon them by the unscrupulous French traders.

Having now been made aware of the fact that hostile Indians were roaming the vicinity, they exercised more caution than up to this time had marked their pilgrimage into the unknown land.

An hour--two of them--passed, and thus far nothing had occurred to disturb their peace of mind. All this time they had continued pushing forward. Occasionally they would make a little roundabout passage so as to clear an open glade where the danger of discovery was imminent. No discordant yells from savage throats arose to thrill them.

"It seems to be a long way off, Dick," ventured Roger, who evidently had not taken into consideration the fact that at the time of the attack Williams and his companions were something like half a day's journey along.

"We must be getting close to the place now," he was assured. "I was just deciding that the next bend in the river would turn out to be where they made their camp. Hardy told us, you remember, that they had hardly settled down there last evening when they were attacked."

"Yes, it was an hour before sunset," he said. "They were feeling tired, and the chance for a fine camp tempted them to stop long before dark came on. Hardy tried to describe the place to us, and I suppose you think you can recognize it from the way the trees hang out over the water?"

"That is what I settled in my mind; but we'll soon know. Given half an hour and we should be there."

The time dragged with the always impetuous Roger; but finally they arrived at the bend of the river indicated. All immediately began to look for signs to prove that the men had camped there.

A joyous exclamation from keen-eyed Roger announced that he had found the dead ashes of a fire in a little depression among the rocks. Then the others discovered footprints of moccasined feet, many of them in the softer places where the earth was not yet frozen.

"Here are the tracks of Indians, for they all toe in," Dick observed, stating a fact that was well known to every pioneer boy of the day. "Toeing-in" was invariably the sign of an Indian, though of course some bordermen had also taken to that method of walking, which is supposed, to be the natural way.

"And these others were made by whites, either our friends or the Frenchmen," added Roger, quick to pick out those that differed from the first type.

"I am looking for the track of Jasper," Dick told him, as he continued to move this way and that, his eyes searching the ground as he neared the bank of the river.

"But tell me how you would know his trail from any other? Most moccasins make pretty much the same kind of a mark, I've always believed."

"Well, Williams's do not, it happens," the other explained. "I thought you must have noticed it as we came along. He bought the pair he is wearing from a Mandan squaw. They have a queer seam across the middle. I never saw one like it before, and I think that is the track now."

He pointed to the ground, and Roger, looking, gave a cry of satisfaction.

"It certainly is as you say, and here must be where Jasper jumped when he made for the water, and sprang into one of the dugouts. See, in many places his footprints are partly covered by those of the pursuing Blackfeet."

"And this must be where he found the canoe into which he jumped," continued Dick, as he showed his companion a slight depression in the sand.

Both stood and looked up the turbulent river. The water tumbled over the rocks that thrust their heads above the surface in many places; it even leaped high in the air and sent out clouds of spray where a cataract could be seen over toward the other shore. But whatever secret it held it gripped tightly, and neither of the boys could lift the veil.

"I wish we knew what happened up there, and if Jasper did get away, or was taken by those plotting French traders and their red allies," mused Roger.

"Well, it will do no good for us to stop here and wish," his companion told him. "There is work to be done, and the sooner we start the quicker we can reach the end. One thing is sure, if Jasper is alive, whether free or a prisoner, we will find him!"

There was no need of lingering any longer, since they had learned all that could be ascertained. It fitted in with the story told by the two men who had been Jasper Williams's companions.

"It seems to me our next best course would be to keep along the border of the river," remarked Dick. "If those who were in the canoes came ashore it would likely be on this side of the stream, because it seems to be a better channel than on the other side.

"Besides, if we watch out we can see the marks left by those of the Blackfeet who ran along the shore expecting to head Jasper off; though I don't think they could do that, because in many places they would have to pass around deep coves that lead many rods inland."

For some time they followed the river. Now and then they managed to discover some tracks of the Indians, but at the end these seemed to be missing, and it was concluded that the band must have left the stream to pass further back in the country.

Unable to find any trace of them, the boys were placed in the position of not knowing whether Jasper had been taken or not. The going became so difficult, and the hope of reward so slight, that in the end they determined it would be best to also leave the river, and take to the higher ground.

Here they could wander about, constantly on the watch for some sign that would indicate a temporary camping place of those whom they sought. If a wisp of trailing smoke caught their attention it would do much to locate the resting place of the Indians. They must eat, and particularly the Frenchmen would desire a warm meal, so that in this way those who sought them might be rewarded for their vigilance.

Hope was struggling with despair in Roger's heart. Look as he might, he could not see any silver lining to the dark cloud. Still, the energy and resolution that his companion continued to show buoyed up his own sinking spirits to a considerable extent.

They had now left the river far behind, and had entered upon a new phase of their journey. Several times at stated intervals they had heard that singular deep throated rumble, and felt the ground tremble under their feet. Whatever it could be that caused this strange sound, they were evidently approaching the scene of its mysterious operations, and might come upon it at any time.

It was about the middle of the afternoon when Mayhew uttered the low hiss which they had settled on as a warning of danger. At that instant Roger and Dick also caught glimpses of flitting figures amidst the forest trees, which they knew must be Indians.