Twice Bought, R. M. Ballantyne [ready to read books txt] 📗

my own which I want you to help me to carry out. Go on with your breakfast and I’ll explain.”

The boy sat down to his meal again without speaking, but with a look of much curiosity on his expressive face.

“You know, without my telling you,” continued Betty, “that I, like my father, have a considerable knowledge of this part of the country, and of the ways of Indians and miners, and from what you have told me, coupled with what father has said, I think it likely that the Indians have carried poor T–—Mr Brixton, I mean—through the Long Gap rather than by the plains—”

“So I would have said, had they consulted me,” interrupted the boy, with an offended air.

“Well, but,” continued Betty, “they would neither have consulted you nor me, for father has a very decided will, you know, and a belief in his own judgment—which is quite right of course, only I cannot help differing from him on this occasion—”

“No more can I,” growled Tolly, thrusting his fork into the pie at a tempting piece of pork.

“So, you see, I’m going to take the big horse you brought here and ride round by the Long Gap to see if I’m right, and I want you to go with me on the pony and take care of me.”

Tolly Trevor felt his heart swell with gratification at the idea of his being the chosen protector of the Rose of Oregon—the Beautiful Nugget; selected by herself, too. Nevertheless his good sense partially subdued his vanity on the point.

“But, I say,” he remarked, looking up with a half-serious expression, “d’you think that you and I are a sufficient party to make a good fight if we are attacked by Redskins? You know your father will hold me responsible, for carrying you off into the midst of danger in this fashion.”

“I don’t mean to fight at all,” returned Betty, with a pleasant laugh, “and I will free you from all responsibility; so, have done, now, and come along.”

“It’s so good,” said Tolly, looking as though he were loath to quit the pork pie; “but, come, I’m your man! Only don’t you think it would be as well to get up a good fighting party among the young miners to go with us? They’d only be too happy to take service under the Beautiful Nugget, you know.”

“Tolly,” exclaimed the Nugget, with more than her wonted firmness, “if you are to take service under me you must learn to obey without question. Now, go and saddle the horses. The big one for me, the pony for yourself. Put the saddle-bags on the horse, and be quick.”

There was a tone and manner about the usually quiet and gentle girl which surprised and quite overawed little Trevor, so that he was reduced at once to an obedient and willing slave. Indeed he was rather glad than otherwise that Betty had declined to listen to his suggestion about the army of young diggers—which an honest doubt as to his own capacity to fight and conquer all who might chance to come in his way had induced him to make—while he was by no means unwilling to undertake, singlehanded, any duties his fair conductor should require of him.

In a few minutes, therefore, the steeds were brought round to the door of the tent, where Betty already stood equipped for the journey.

Our fair readers will not, we trust, be prejudiced against the Rose of Oregon when we inform them that she had adopted man’s attitude in riding. Her costume was arranged very much after the pattern of the Indian women’s dress—namely, a close-fitting body, a short woollen skirt reaching a little below the knees, and blue cloth leggings in continuation. These latter were elegantly wrought with coloured silk thread, and the pair of moccasins which covered her small feet were similarly ornamented. A little cloth cap, in shape resembling that of a cavalry foraging cap, but without ornaments, graced her head, from beneath which her wavy hair tumbled in luxuriant curls on her shoulders, and, as Tolly was wont to remark, looked after itself anyhow. Such a costume was well adapted to the masculine position on horseback, as well as to the conditions of a land in which no roads, but much underwood, existed.

Bevan’s tent having been pitched near the outskirts of Simpson’s Camp, the maiden and her gallant protector had no difficulty in quitting it unobserved. Riding slowly at first, to avoid attracting attention as well as to pick their steps more easily over the somewhat rugged ground near the camp, they soon reached the edge of an extensive plain, at the extremity of which a thin purple line indicated a range of hills. Here Tolly Trevor, unable to restrain his joy at the prospect of adventure before him, uttered a war-whoop, brought his switch down smartly on the pony’s flank, and shot away over the plain like a wild creature. The air was bracing, the prospect was fair, the sunshine was bright. No wonder that the obedient pony, forgetting for the moment the fatigues of the past, and strong in the enjoyment of the previous night’s rest and supper, went over the ground at a pace that harmonised with its young rider’s excitement; and no wonder that the obstinate horse was inclined to emulate the pony, and stretched its long legs into a wild gallop, encouraged thereto by the Rose on its back.

The gallop was ere long pressed to racing speed, and there is no saying when the young pair would have pulled up—had they not met with a sudden check by the pony putting his foot into a badger-hole. The result was frightful to witness, though trifling in result. The pony went heels over head upon the plain like a rolling wheel, and its rider shot into the air like a stone from a catapult. Describing a magnificent curve, and coming down head foremost, Tolly would then and there have ended his career if he had not fortunately dropped into a thick bush, which broke his fall instead of his neck, and saved him. Indeed, excepting several ugly scratches, he was none the worse for the misadventure.

Poor horrified Betty attempted to pull up, but the obstinate horse had got the bit in his teeth and declined, so that when Tolly had scrambled out of the bush she was barely visible in the far distance, heading towards the blue hills.

“Hallo!” was her protector’s anxious remark as he gazed at the flying fair one. Then, without another word, he leaped on the pony and went after her at full speed, quite regardless of recent experience.

The blue hills had become green hills, and the Long Gap was almost reached, before the obstinate horse suffered itself to be reined in—probably because it was getting tired. Soon afterwards the pony came panting up.

“You’re not hurt, I hope?” said Betty, anxiously, as Tolly came alongside.

“Oh no. All right,” replied the boy; “but I say what a run you have given me! Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“Ask that of the horse, Tolly.”

“What! Did he bolt with you?”

“Truly he did. I never before rode such a stubborn brute. My efforts to check it were useless, as it had the bit in its teeth, and I did my best, for I was terribly anxious about you, and cannot imagine how you escaped a broken neck after such a flight.”

“It was the bush that saved me, Betty. But, I say, we seem to be nearing a wildish sort of place.”

“Yes; this is the Long Gap,” returned the girl, flinging back her curls and looking round. “It cuts right through the range here, and becomes much wilder and more difficult to traverse on horseback farther on.”

“And what d’ye mean to do, Betty?” inquired the boy as they rode at a foot-pace towards the opening, which seemed like a dark portal to the hills. “Suppose you discover that the Redskins have carried Tom Brixton off in this direction, what then? You and I won’t be able to rescue him, you know.”

“True, Tolly. If I find that they have taken him this way I will ride straight to father’s encampment—he told me before starting where he intends to sleep to-night, so I shall easily find him—tell him what we have discovered and lead him back here.”

“And suppose you don’t find that the Redskins have come this way,” rejoined Tolly, after a doubtful shake of his head, “what then?”

“Why, then, I shall return to our tent and leave father and Mr Westly to hunt them down.”

“And suppose,” continued Tolly—but Tolly never finished the supposition, for at that moment two painted Indians sprang from the bushes on either side of the narrow track, and, almost before the riders could realise what had happened, the boy found himself on his back with a savage hand at his throat and the girl found herself on the ground with the hand of a grinning savage on her shoulder.

Tolly Trevor struggled manfully, but alas! also boyishly, for though his spirit was strong his bodily strength was small—at least, as compared with that of the savage who held him. Yes, Tolly struggled like a hero. He beheld the Rose of Oregon taken captive, and his blood boiled! He bit, he kicked, he scratched, and he hissed with indignation—but it would not do.

“Oh, if you’d only let me up and give me one chance!” he gasped.

But the red man did not consent—indeed, he did not understand. Nevertheless, it was obvious that the savage was not vindictive, for although Tolly’s teeth and fists and toes and nails had wrought him some damage, he neither stabbed nor scalped the boy. He only choked him into a state of semi-unconsciousness, and then, turning him on his face, tied his hands behind his back with a deerskin thong.

Meanwhile the other savage busied himself in examining the saddle-bags of the obstinate horse. He did not appear to think it worth while to tie the hands of Betty! During the short scuffle between his comrade and the boy he had held her fast, because she manifested an intention to run to the rescue. When that was ended he relieved her of the weapons she carried and let her go, satisfied, no doubt that, if she attempted to run away, he could easily overtake her, and if she were to attempt anything else he could restrain her.

When, however, Betty saw that Tolly’s antagonist meant no harm, she wisely attempted nothing, but sat down on a fallen tree to await the issue. The savages did not keep her long in suspense. Tolly’s foe, having bound him, lifted him on the back of the pony, and then, taking the bridle, quietly led it away. At the same time the other savage assisted Betty to remount the horse, and, grasping the bridle of that obstinate creature, followed his comrade. The whole thing was so sudden, so violent, and the result so decisive, that the boy looked back at Betty and burst into a half-hysterical fit of laughter, but the girl did not respond.

“It’s a serious business, Tolly!” she said.

“So it is, Betty,” he replied.

Then, pursing his little mouth, and gathering his eyebrows into a frown, he gave himself up to meditation, while the Indians conducted them into the dark recesses of the Long Gap.