The Dog Crusoe and his Master, Robert Michael Ballantyne [mystery books to read TXT] 📗

a spot where there was a good deal of drifted snow on the ground. Here he seemed to lose the trail for a little, and ran about in all directions, whining in a most piteous tone.

"Seek 'em out, pup," repeated Dick encouragingly, while his own breast heaved with excitement and expectation.

In a few seconds the dog resumed its onward course, and led the way into a wild, dark spot, which was so overshadowed by trees and precipitous cliffs that the light of the sun scarce found entrance. There were many huge masses of rock scattered over the ground, which had fallen from the cliffs. Behind one of these lay a mound of dried leaves, towards which Crusoe darted and commenced scraping violently.

Trembling with dread that he should find this to be the grave of his murdered companions, Dick rushed forward and hastily cleared away the leaves. The first handful thrown off revealed part of the figure of a man. Dick's heart beat audibly as he cleared the leaves from the face, and he uttered a suppressed cry on beholding the well-known features of Joe Blunt! But they were not those of a dead man. Joe's eyes met his with a scowl of anger, which instantly gave place to one of intense surprise.

"Joe Blunt!" exclaimed Dick in a voice of intense amazement, while Crusoe sniffed round the heap of leaves, and whined with excitement. But Joe did not move, neither did he speak a word in reply--for the very good reasons that his mouth was tightly bound with a band of leather, his hands and feet were tied, and his whole body was secured in a rigid, immovable position by being bound to a pole of about his own length.

In a moment Dick's knife was out, bands and cords were severed, and Joe Blunt was free.

"Thank God," exclaimed Joe with a deep, earnest sigh, the instant his lips were loosened, "and thanks to _you_, lad," he added, endeavouring to rise, but his limbs had become so benumbed in consequence of the cords by which they had been compressed that for some time he could not move.

"I'll rub ye, Joe--I'll soon rub ye into a right state," said Dick, going down on his knees.

"No, no, lad, look sharp and dig up Henri. He's just beside me here."

Dick immediately rose, and, pushing aside the heap of leaves, found Henri securely bound in the same fashion. But he could scarce refrain from laughing at the expression of that worthy's face. Hearing the voices of Joe and Dick Varley in conversation, though unable to see their persons, he was filled with such unbounded amazement that his eyes, when uncovered, were found to be at their largest possible stretch, and as for the eyebrows, they were gone, utterly lost among the roots of his voluminous hair.

"Henri, friend, I knew I should find ye," said Dick, cutting the thongs that bound him. "Get up if ye can, we haven't much time to lose, an' mayhap we'll have to fight afore we're done wi' the Red-skins. Can ye rise?"

Henri could do nothing but lie on his back and gasp, "Eh! possible! mon frere! Oh, non, non, _not_ possible. Oui! my broder Deek!"

Here he attempted to rise, but, being unable, fell back again, and the whole thing came so suddenly, and made so deep an impression on his impulsive mind, that he incontinently burst into tears; then he burst into a long laugh. Suddenly he paused, and, scrambling up to a sitting posture, looked earnestly into Dick's face through his tearful eyes.

"Oh, non, non!" he exclaimed, stretching himself out at full length again, and closing his eyes; "it are too goot to be true. I am dream. I vill wait till I am wake."

Dick roused him out of this resolute sleep, however, somewhat roughly. Meanwhile Joe had rubbed and kicked himself into a state of animation, exclaiming that he felt as if he wos walkin' on a thousand needles and pins, and in a few minutes they were ready to accompany their overjoyed deliverer back to the Peigan camp. Crusoe testified his delight in various elephantine gambols round the persons of his old friends, who were not slow to acknowledge his services.

"They haven't treated us overly well," remarked Joe Blunt, as they strode through the underwood.

"Non, de rascale, vraiment, de am villains. Oui! How de have talk, too, 'bout--oh-o-oo-ooo-wah!--roastin' us alive, an' puttin' our scalp in de vigvam for de poopoose to play wid!"

"Well, niver mind, Henri, we'll be quits wi' them now," said Joe, as they came in sight of the two bands, who remained in precisely the same position in which they had been left, except that one or two of the more reckless of the trappers had lit their pipes and taken to smoking, without, however, laying down their rifles or taking their eyes off the savages.

A loud cheer greeted the arrival of the prisoners, and looks of considerable discomfort began to be evinced by the Indians.

"Glad to see you, friends," said Cameron, as they came up.

"Ve is 'appy ov de same," replied Henri, swaggering up in the joviality of his heart, and seizing the trader's hand in his own enormous fist. "Shall ve go to york an' slay dem all at vonce, or von at a time?"

"We'll consider that afterwards, my lad. Meantime go you to the rear, and get a weapon of some sort."

"Oui. Ah! c'est charmant," he cried, going with an immense flounder into the midst of the amused trappers, and slapping those next to him on the back. "Give me veapon, do, mes ami--gun, pistol, anyting--cannon, if you have von."

Meanwhile Cameron and Joe spoke together for a few moments.

"You had goods with you, and horses, I believe, when you were captured," said the former.

"Ay, that we had. Yonder stand the horses under the pine-tree, along wi' the rest o' the Red-skin troop, an a hard time they've had o't, as their bones may tell without speakin'. As for the goods," he continued, glancing round the camp, "I don't know where--ah! yes, there they be in the old pack. I see all safe."

Cameron now addressed the Indians.

"The Peigans," he said, "have not done well. Their hearts have not been true to the Pale-faces. Even now I could take your scalps where you sit; but white men do not like war, they do not like revenge. The Peigans may go free."

Considering the fewness of their numbers, this was bold language to use towards the Indians; but the boldest is generally the best policy on such occasions. Moreover, Cameron felt that, being armed with rifles, while the Indians had only bows and arrows, the trappers had a great advantage over them.

The Indian who had spoken before now rose and said he was sorry there should be any cause of difference between them, and added he was sorry for a great many more things besides, but he did not say he was sorry for having told a lie.

"But, before you go, you must deliver up the horses and goods belonging to these men," said Cameron pointing to Joe and Henri.

This was agreed to. The horses were led out, the two little packs containing Joe's goods were strapped upon them, and then the trappers turned to depart. The Indians did not move until they had mounted; then they rose and advanced in a body to the edge of the wood, to see the Pale-faces go away. Meanwhile Joe spoke a few words to Cameron, and the men were ordered to halt, while the former dismounted and led his horse towards the band of savages.

"Peigans," he said, "you know the object for which I came into this country was to make peace between you and the Pale-faces. I have often told you so when you would not listen, and when you told me that I had a double heart, and told lies. You were wrong when you said this; but I do not wonder, for you live among nations who do not fear God, and who think it right to lie. I now repeat to you what I said before. It would be good for the Red-men if they would make peace with the Pale-faces, and if they would make peace with each other. I will now convince you that I am in earnest, and have all along been speaking the truth."

Hereupon Joe Blunt opened his bundle of goods, and presented fully one-half of the gaudy and brilliant contents to the astonished Indians, who seemed quite taken aback by such generous treatment. The result of this was that the two parties separated with mutual expressions of esteem and good will. The Indians then returned to the forest, and the white men galloped back to their camp among the hills.


CHAPTER TWENTY.


NEW PLANS--OUR TRAVELLERS JOIN THE FUR-TRADERS, AND SEE MANY STRANGE THINGS--A CURIOUS FIGHT--A NARROW ESCAPE, AND A PRISONER TAKEN.

Not long after the events related in the last chapter, our four friends, Dick, and Joe, and Henri, and Crusoe, agreed to become for a time members of Walter Cameron's band of trappers. Joe joined because one of the objects which the traders had in view was similar to his own mission, namely, the promoting of peace among the various Indian tribes of the mountains and plains to the west. Joe, therefore, thought it a good opportunity of travelling with a band of men who could secure him a favourable hearing from the Indian tribes they might chance to meet with in the course of their wanderings. Besides, as the traders carried about a large supply of goods with them, he could easily replenish his own nearly exhausted pack by hunting wild animals and exchanging their skins for such articles as he might require.

Dick joined because it afforded him an opportunity of seeing the wild, majestic scenery of the Rocky Mountains, and shooting the big-horned sheep which abounded there, and the grizzly "bars," as Joe named them, or "Caleb," as they were more frequently styled by Henri and the other men.

Henri joined because it was agreeable to the inclination of his own rollicking, blundering, floundering, crashing disposition, and because he would have joined anything that had been joined by the other two.

Crusoe's reason for joining was single, simple, easy to be expressed, easy to be understood, and commendable. _He_ joined--because Dick did.

The very day after the party left the encampment where Dick had shot the grizzly bear and the deer, he had the satisfaction of bringing down a splendid specimen of the big-horned sheep. It came suddenly out from a gorge of the mountain, and stood upon the giddy edge of a tremendous precipice, at a distance of about two hundred and fifty yards.

"_You_ could not hit that," said a trapper to Henri, who was rather fond of jeering him about his short-sightedness.

"Non!" cried Henri, who didn't see the animal in the least; "say you dat? ve shall see;" and he let fly with a promptitude that amazed his comrades, and with a result that drew from them peals of laughter.

"Why, you have missed the mountain!"

"Oh, non! dat am eempossoble."

It was true, nevertheless, for his ball had been arrested in its flight by the