A Waif of the Mountains, Edward Sylvester Ellis [reading a book .txt] 📗

they had done with the animals, and I spent some more time in trying to larn, but it was no use.

"Bime by I struck better ground, where the trail was so clear I could have trotted over it."

"Why didn't you do it?" asked Ruggles.

Adams shook his head.

"It wouldn't have done; as I said they must have found out, purty early in the day, that we was after them, for if they didn't, why did they turn off the reg'lar track?"

"Never mind asking questions," replied the captain; "go on with your story."

"Wal, pards, by that time I must have been a mile from here and it looked as if I'd have to go that much further. I had a good mind to come back after you, for time was important, but when another rocky, walled-up place showed in front of me, I was sartin I was close upon 'em. Their horses couldn't make their way through such a spot, and I was sure I had 'em fast."

"Why didn't you come back at once?" said the captain, "but, never mind, go on with your account."

"I thought it would be best to find out just how they was fixed. At the same time, it would never do to let 'em diskiver that I was about. So I was powerful careful and crept forward as if into an Injin camp. It wasn't long before I smelled burning wood. That told me they had come to a stop, built a fire and didn't dream I was anywhere in the neighborhood.

"But I wasn't through with the bother yet; it took me another long time to find where that fire was burnin', but I hit it at last. A little faint streak of smoke was climbin' from behind a ridge, among a growth of pines. I begun creeping forward when I changed my mind. I thought that if one of 'em happened to be on the watch and see me, they would be off afore I could git anywhere near 'em. So I worked round to the other side to come upon 'em from that. Then you see if they took the alarm, they'd have to come back toward you or make another long circuit. Anyway, I was sure of a chance to meet 'em.

"Wal, pards, I don't want to make a long story of what is a short one. I got round to tother side, but it took me a good while, and it's hardly an hour ago that I catched my first sight of their camp."

"What passed between you and them?" asked the captain.

"When I rested my eyes on the little bundle of wood burnin', there wasn't a man, woman or horse in sight."

The listeners were dumbfounded for the moment. After the waste of the greater part of the day, they were no nearer seeing the fugitives than before. In a voice, husky with passion, Captain Dawson exclaimed:

"It will take hard work to convince me that all this was not done on purpose by you."

"What do you mean?" demanded Vose, showing more anger than at any time since the strange hunt had been begun.

"If you had spent a week trying to fix things so as to help them get away from us, you couldn't have done any better than your own account shows you to have done. The whole day has been lost and we stand just as near success as we did twenty-four hours ago."

"You ought to have returned to us as soon as you located them," added Brush in the effort to soothe the ruffled feelings of the two.

"P'raps I didn't do the wisest thing," replied Adams with unexpected meekness; "but I ain't the first person in the world that has made a mistake. Howsumever, there won't be any more slips by me."

His companions looked inquiringly at him.

"I don't understand that remark," said the captain, "when you are sure to blunder as long as you attempt to manage things."

"That's the p'int; I resign from this time forward; I haven't given satisfaction and you may now do the work to suit yourselves."

"It's just as well," commented the captain, "for we can't make a greater mess of it than you."

The story told by Vose Adams was a singular one, but the most singular feature about it was that it did not contain a grain of truth. Every statement was a falsehood, deliberately intended to deceive, and, seeing that he had succeeded in his purpose, he was satisfied.


CHAPTER XXIII

VOSE ADAMS

Lieutenant Russell gave no hint to Nellie Dawson of the scheme upon which he had fixed his hopes, until after she had confessed her love for him, and he was certain beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he possessed the sole affection of her heart. Even then he hesitated for he knew the shock it would cause the gentle one, who was devotedly attached to her father. But the resolution of Captain Dawson to spend the remainder of his days at the mining settlement, and his intention of selecting her husband from among those that had made New Constantinople their home for years, crystallized the determination that had been vaguely shaping itself in his brain for weeks.

As he expected, she recoiled shocked by the proposal to leave her father; but love is eloquent, and he won by convincing her that the separation would be only temporary. Her father would be quick to see the great wrong his course would inflict upon his child, and he would not only consent to the union, but would follow and make his home with them. It was this implicit belief which made her the companion of Lieutenant Russell in the flight from the mountain settlement.

The project having been carefully planned and arranged, the preparations were more complete than those of their pursuers. They took sufficient extra clothing in the form of wraps and blankets, and enough food to last for several days. They were well mounted and had the companionship of the huge dog Timon, with his almost human intelligence.

The lieutenant's memory of places was good, and, having a number of hours of daylight at command, he escaped the mistake of his pursuers. The turn from Dead Man's Gulch was made at the right point, and they were miles on their way before their flight was discovered by Captain Dawson and his friends.

Both of the fugitives did not doubt they would be pursued. They knew the consuming anger that would take possession of her father, who would probably collect several companions and start after them with furious haste. He would take frightful vengeance upon the man that had dared to steal his daughter. Everything, therefore, must be done to keep beyond his reach until his wrath had time to cool. The intention was to make Sacramento ahead of him. At that city, the lieutenant would seek out his future father-in-law and plead his cause.

When night closed around them, they had penetrated to a distance of perhaps fifteen miles in the Sierras. It was at sunset that they passed a spot, where horses and riders, the latter on foot, had to pick their way with extreme care, while even Timon, who clung faithfully to them, showed timidity, though he had been over the place before. The sagacious brute knew that a mis-step on his part meant death. The passage, however, was made without mishap, and Russell, as he helped his companion into the saddle, assured her that nothing so trying to the nerves was to be expected during the rest of the journey.

There was no fear of pursuit until after nightfall, but Russell frequently pointed his glass backward and scanned the trail over his whole field of vision. When the gathering darkness shut out everything, he had seen nothing of enemies, either white or red. He could not forget that on his previous journey, he and the captain had desperate fighting with the Indians and the same peril still impended.

Nellie was eager to cover all the ground possible, while the opportunity was theirs, and the flight was pushed longer than Russell would have advised. Finally, he insisted they should stop and rest themselves and horses for the remainder of the night. The halting place was selected with much care. The animals were turned loose, where the grass was growing and a small stream wound its way toward a larger one. Then the two, accompanied by Timon, pushed in among the rocks to where the final halt was made.

They were in profound darkness. The lieutenant decided to start a fire, and, with much difficulty, gathered a sufficiency of dried branches. They were fortunate enough to find a partial cavern, so open in front that it would have given slight shelter in the event of a storm. When the blaze threw out its cheerful light, it served to dissipate the gloom which in spite of themselves had oppressed them with the coming of night.

They partook of food and the lieutenant's spirits rose, for he saw nothing to prevent the full success of the dream which had inspired and thrilled him so long. His buoyancy was infectious, and he brought a smile to the beauteous countenance by his merry sallies, and his picture of the happy future that was close at hand.

"Your father will be angry at first," he said; "it would be strange if he were not, but he loves you and I think has a pretty fair opinion of me. When he gains time to think over the matter, he will admit the wisdom of what we have done and we shall receive his blessing."

It was this assurance, more than all else, that served to lift the gloom from her. Deep as was her love for the one at her side, it would not have sufficed to draw her from her adored parent, had she believed that his resentment against her would last. As it was, she grieved that even for a brief time, as she thought would be the case, he should hold harsh feelings toward her.

No chivalrous knight of the Crusades could have been more scrupulously considerate of lady intrusted to his charge than Lieutenant Russell. He would have died before offending Nellie Dawson by act, word or presumptuous thought. When, as the night advanced, the bright eyes began to grow drowsy, he arranged a couch for her, saw that she was well provided with blankets and then turned to the immense dog, who had never left them and who looked as if he understood everything.

"Now, Timon, you are to stay right here," he said, bending over and impressively shaking his finger at the animal; "you are not to venture a dozen feet from your mistress without permission. Do you understand?"

A whine and wagging of the tail left no doubt that the wishes of his late master were clear to him.

"You have your gun at your side," he added, turning to Nellie; "I do not think you will have any call to use it. We have not met any Indians and your father cannot overtake us before morning. Timon will be sure to give you warning of the approach of danger, and, if your gun goes off, I shall be here in a twinkling."

He bade her good night and departed. Enough wood had been flung on the fire to keep it going for an hour or two, but long before it sank to ashes, the girl had drifted into dreamland.

The lieutenant carefully selected his own sleeping quarters. He finally fixed upon a large